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liAlLV ?uBUcRTIo!7^^R^£BF5TCOKK^^^• 

51 


Vol. 5, No. 218. Sept. 24,1883. Annual Subscription, $50,00. 


PISISTRATUS 


N, M. P., 


b: 

ir^iTHE-I^IGU-I^NDS. 

V, 






WILLIAM BLACK. 


ntered at the Post Office, N. Y., as second-class matter. 
Oopyrisht, 1883, by JOHN \V. IX>VFXI.Co. 

— — rTi 


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r Jc t'v.N w • Ly OVIS L L, • Coi^PA.>IY+ 

Vl^EY STREET 


lAiitMt CLOl'ii BUDDING for this r«)um« can be obtained from any bookseller or newsdealer, price Idcts 




LOVELL’S LIBRARY 


O^T-A.ILOa-'CrE. 


1. Hyperion, by H. W. Longfellow... 20 

2. Outre Mer, by H. W. Longfell 

3. The Happy Boy, by Bjclrnson. . . . 10 

4. Arne, by Bjbrnaon 10 

6. Frankenfliein; or, the Modern Pro- 

metheuB, by Mrs. Shdley 10 

6 The Last of the MohicauB, by J. 
Fenimore Cooper 20 

7. Clytie, by Joseph Hatton 20 

8. The Moonsione, by Collins, P't I. .10 

9. The Moonstone, by Collins. P til. 10 

10. Oliver Twist, by Chancs Dickens 20 

11. The Coining Race, by Lytton 10 

12. Leila, by Lord Lytton 10 

13. The Three SpatiiardB, by Walker. .20 

14. The Tricks of the Gre* ks Unveiled; 

or, the Art of Winning at every 
Game, by Robert Houd n .20 

15. L’Abbo Constantin, by Ha,6vy..20 

10. Freckles, by R. F. Redcliff. 20 

IT, The Dark Colleen, by 11 n riett Jay .20 
13. They Were Married I by Waiter Be- 


19. Seekers after God, by Canon Farrar. :;0 
2J, The Spanish Nun, by Thus. De 

Quiiicey 10 

21. The Gieen Mountain Boys, by 

Judge D. P. Tnoinpson 20 

22. Fleurette, by Eugene Scribe 20 

23. Second Thoughts, by Rhoda 

Broughton 20 

24. The New Magdalen, by Wilkie 

Collins 20 

25. Divorce, by Margaret Lee 20 

20. Life of Washington, by Henley . 20 

27. Social Etiquette, by Mrs. W. A. 

Saville 15 

28. Single Heart and Double Face, by 

Charles Reade 10 

29. Irene, by Carl Dctlef. 20 

30. ViceVersa; or, a Lesson to Fathers, 

by F. Anstey 20 


31. Ernest MaUravers, by Lord Lytton. 20 

32. The Haunted House and Calderon 

the Courtier, by Lord Lytton. .10 

33. John Halifax, by Miss Mulock....20 

34. 800 Leagues on the Amazon, being 

Part i of the Giant Raft, by 

Jules Verne 10 

85. The Cryptogram, being Part II of 

the Giant Raft, by Jules Verne.. 10 

36. Lifeof Marion, ny Horry andWeems. 20 

37. Paul and Virginia 10 

38. Tale oi Two Citie«, by Dickens.. .20 

39. The Hermits, by Kingsley 20 

40. An Adventure in Thule, and Mar- 

riage of Moira Fergus, by Wm. 
Black 10 

41. AMarriageinHighLife, by Octave 

Feuillet 20 

42. Robin, by Mrs. Parr.. . 20 

43. Two on a Tower, byThomas Hardy .20 

44. Rasselas, by Samuel Johnson 10 


45. Alice, or, the Mysteries, being Part 


II of Ernest Maltravers 20 

46. Duke of Kandos, by A. Marthey . . .2(1 

47. Baron Munchausen lO 


48. A Princess of Thule, by Wm. Black . 20 

49. The Secret Despatch, by Grant. ..20 

50. Early Days of Christianity, by Can- 

on Farrar, D,D., Parti... ..-.£0 
Early Daysof Christianity, byCuu- 
on Farrar, D.D., Part 11. 20 

51. Vicar of Wakefield, by Oliver Gold- 

smith ... .10 

52. Progress and Poverty, by Henry 

George 20 

53. The Spy, by J. Fenimore Cocker... 20 

54. East Lynne, by Mrs. Henry Wood. 20 

55. A Stramre SLory, by Lord L' tton. 20 

56. Adam Bede, by Geo, Eli^t, Part I..15 
Adam Bed<*, by Geo. Eliot, Part II.. 15 

57. The Golden Shaft, by Gibbon. 20 


58. Portia, or. By Passions Rocked, by 

The Duchess 20 

59. Last Days of Pompeii, by Lytton. 20 

60. The Two Duchf'sses, being the se- 

quel to the Duke of Kandos, by 
A. Mathey 20 

61. Tom Brown’s School Days at Rug- 

by 20 

62. TheWooing O't, by Mrs. Alexander, 

Part I 15 

TheWooing O't, by Mrs. Alexander, 
Part II 15 

63. The Vendetta, Ta es of Love and 


Passion, by Honoro de Balzac.. 20 

64. Hypatis, by Rev. Kingslev, Part I. 15 

Hypatia, by Kingsby, Part 11. ..15 

65. Selma, by Mrs. J. Gregory Smith. 15 

66. Margaret and her Bridesmaids., 20 

67. Horse Shoe Robinson, Part I .... 15 

H Tse Sht*e Robinson, Part II 15 

68. Gulliver's Travels, by Dean Swift.. 20 

69. Amos Barton, by George Eliot,. . .10 

70. The Berber, by W. E. Mayo. . . . 2 O 

71. Silas Marnei, by George Eliot.... 10 

72. The Queen of the County 20 

73- Life of Cromwell, by Paxton Hood. .15 

74. Jane Eyre, by Charlotte Bronte... 2U 

75. Child's History of England, by 

Charles Dickens 20 

76. Molly Bawn. by The Duchess 20 

77. Pillone, by SVilliam Bergsoe 15 

78. Phyllis, by the Duchess ... ... 20 

79. Romola, by George Eliot, Parti... 15 
Romola, by Qet)rge Eliot, Part II. 16 

80. Science in Short Chapters 20 

81. Zanoni, by Lord Lytton 20 

82. A Daughter of Heth, by W, Black. 20 

83. The Right and Wrong Uses of the 

Bible, by Rev. R, Heber Newton.20 

84. Night and Morning, by Lord Lytton 

Part I 15 

Night and Morning, by Lord Lytton 
Part II 15 



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-OR- 


BUMBLEPUPPY? 

Ten Lectures addressed to Cliildren. 

By PEM BRIDGE. 

I vol., i2mo., cloth, limp, - - - .50 

Also in Lovell’s Library, No. 18 1, - - .10 

Whist, or Bumblepuppy ? ’ is one of the most enter- 
taining and at the same time one of the soundest books on 
whist ever written. Its drollery may blind some readers 
to the value of its advice ; no man who knows anything 
about whist, however, will fail to read it with interest, 
and few will fail to read it with advantage. Upon the 
ordinary rules of whist, Pembridge supplies much 
sensible and thoroughly amusing comment. The best 
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mediocre player can scarcely find a better counsellor. 
There is scarcely an opinion expressed with which we do 
not coincide.”-^Z^7//^(;7« Sunday Times. 

*‘We have been rather lengthy in our remarks on this 
book, as it is the best attempt we have ever seen to shame 
very bad players into trying to improve, and also because 
it abounds with most sensible maxims, dressed up in a very 
amusing and palatable lorm .” — London Field. 

JOHN W. LOVELL CO., 

14 <fe 16 Vesey St., New York. 


Mr. PISISTRATUS BROWN, M.P. 


IN THE HIGHLANDS. 


BY WILLIAM BLACK. 


Author of ** A Princess of Thule;" A Daughter of Ileth 
“ In Silk Attire “ The Strange Adventures of a Phaeton ; ” 

“ Madcap Violet ; ” Etc.^ Etc. 



NEW YORK: 

JOHN W. LOVELL COMPANY, 

14 & 16 Vesey Street. 


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Mr; Pisistratus Brown, MiP;, 

IN THE HIGHLANDS. 


CHAPTER I. 

PRELIMINARY WANDERINGS. 

Mr’. Pisistratus Brown, M. P., started for a ramble 
through the Highlands without any very definite purpose or 
plan. It was my good fortune to meet him one morning, by 
the merest accident, in Princes Street, Edinburgh, where he 
stood on the pavement pensively looking up at the Scott 
Monument. Even at a distance, I had recognized the plump 
and comfortable figure of my friend of old, despite the fact 
that he was now clothed in a suit of gray tartan, with a Glen- 
garry cap set coquettishly on his head. As I drew near I 
could perceive that he was little altered — that the old famil- 
iar expression was there, which used to puzzle the Conser- 
vative benches, and attract the eyes of the reporters from their 
gallery above. P"or Mr. Disraeli is not the only member of 
the House of Commons whom popular imagination has gifted 
with a “ Sphinx-like look.”* Mr. Brown, M. P., has it too. 
Nature intended the Member for Bourton-in-the-Marsh to be 
a jolly, laughing, humorous, and fat little man : but ever af- 
ter Mr. Brown got into the House, it was observ'ed that a 
certain gravity lay over his features. He had covered his 
jocular good-humor with a thin veil of care and thought. He 
had also caught a trick of passing his hand slowly over his 

* Written in 1871, when the late Lord Beaconsfield , then Mr. Disraeli, 
was a member of the Lower House. 


6 


MR. PISISTRATUS BROWN M.P., 


brow, and up toward his shining bald head, as if there was 
that within which passed the outward show of his round face, 
and merry, clear blue eyes. Sometimes, indeed, he was found 
to have his gaze fixed meditatively on the horizon, as if he 
were resolving within himself the finances of far Cathay, or 
planning some diplomatic manoeuver in the Khanats, to stem 
the slow-working stream of Russian aggression. 

I asked him how he came to be in Edinburgh while the 
Houses of Parliament were still sitting. He passed his arm 
within mine, and said he would tell me. 

“ You know,” said he, “ the Liberal majority is already 
big enough ! What is the use of my remaining in the House 
to be a mere voting unit ? I have stolen away a week or two 
before the recess in order to do some work which will really 
be of benefit. I have brought with me a bundle of papers, 
documents, and letters, bearing on the gross grievances sus- 
tained by her Majesty’s Clerks of Customs, as regards salary 
and term of service ; and I humbly think I cannot be better 
employed than in studying this important question.” 

I told Mr. Brown that he was quite right ; that it was always 
better to work in the open air, when that was possible ; and 
then we fell to talking of his projected tour through 
the Highlands. 

It turned out, as I have said, that Mr. Brown, M. P., had 
no plan ; but was not a member of the Imperial Legislature 
of Great Britain and Ireland certain to have plenty of invi- 
tations ? In a few days’ time his brethren of both Houses 
would be coming north ; and there would be given him such 
opportunities of yachting, fishing, deer-stalking, and grouse- 
shooting, as seldom fall to the lot of mortals. In the mean 
time he was free to lounge about, and study at his leisure 
the grievances of the Customs Clerks. I proposed that he 
should spend a few days in the Western Highlands, before 
going north. He consented, on condition that I should ac- 
company him. That night we went through to Glasgow, and 
next morning started by train for Greenock, a beautiful day 
heralding our setting out. 

“ Is there a black Macintosh here ? ” asked the guard, 
popping his head into the carriage as we were in the bustle 
of getting out at Greenock. 

“ No, we are a’ red MacGregors,” was the reply. 

This was the last joke we heard from the gay party of 
artists who had accompanied us from Glasgow — a handful of 
dare-devil youths, who had smoked, and laughed, and told 


IN THE HIGHLANDS. 


7 


stories about the “ Paisley bodies,” and even good-naturedly 
painted my companion’s portrait inside the crown of his hat 
during the brief ride down from the commercial capital of 
Scotland. And so we stood upon the quay of Greenock, 
with all the world before us. In which of all these pufling 
and roaring steamers should we embark ? Far out before us 
stretched the lake-like Frith of the Clyde — with a brisk 
breeze from the west curling up its clear waters, with the 
hills of Roseneath and Cowal lying in a faint haze of heat, 
with sea-gulls circling overhead, and out on the broad green 
waters innumerable white-sailed yachts that dipped to the 
waves as they steered their various courses toward the 
mouths of the lochs. All around the base of these distant 
hills we could see the tiny villages — white and shining in the 
sun — which are beloved of the Glasgow folks : nestlings of 
little stone villas built among the rocks and the trees, and 
fronting such spacious views and such lovely scenery as 
belong to no other river in Europe. Should we dart up the 
Gare Lock and see the wonders of Glen Fruin ? Or sail up 
the noble Loch Long to the rainy regions of Arrochar and 
the silent sides of Ben Ima ^ Or dive into Hell’s Glen, and 
cross over to see the preparations being made for the Royal 
visit at Inverary Castle ? Or linger about the Kyles of Bute, 
and forget the roar of the Metropolis and the strife of Par- 
liament in the loneliness of the lovely Loch Striven ? Amid 
the crowd of excited porters, and frantic mothers with 
wandering families, and irate fathers- who had lost their 
fishing-rods, and amid all the hurry, and roar, and distraction 
of whistling pipes, and churning paddles, and clanging bells, 
it was impossible to arrive at a calm decision. And so we 
“ took that which lay nearest us,” and crossed the gangway, 
on chance, into a vessel bound for some unknown destina- 
tion. 

And, lo ! as we stood out toward the open Frith, all the 
wild noise died down, and the prevailing sound was the 
monotonous throbbing of the paddles on the calm water. 
Greenock herself, probably the dirtiest town in this unhappy 
world, began to shimmer behind a gauzy veil of sunlight ; 
while down by Gourock, toward the'point at which the Cloch 
Lighthouse, white as a star, juts out into the blue sea, the 
low-lying line of hills grew faint and visionary. The other 
side of the estuary was gradually becoming more distinct ; 
and along the western side of the promontory of Roseneath 
we game m sight of the imposing villas, and keeps, and cas- 


8 MR. PISISTRA TUS BRO WN M.P., 

ties, which the Glasgow merchants and shipbuilders have 
built over the sea there, perching them on plateaux of mica 
schist, and having them well surrounded by birch, and elm, 
and rowan. A village consisting of these cottages and cas- 
tles, with plenty of wood around, and a picturesque shore in 
front, is a wondrous novelty to him who has derived his no- 
tions of the seaside from the monotonous sands and chalk- 
cliffs of the South of England. Mr. Brown can find no 
words — not even Parliamentary phrases — to express his pro- 
found surprise and delight with this sort of watering-place. 

“ Why,” he says, “ they’d call those mountains in my part 
of the country ; and there seems to be lakes by the dozen 
that could swallow Grasmere and Windermere, and never 
wink over it ; and every man seems to have dotted down his 
house wherever he liked on the side of the hills. Then the 
rocky shore, with its shingle ; and the clear sea-water ; and the 
clumps of forest stretching down to the sea — why is this not 
known ? ” 

Mr. Brown, M. P., is a good deal more familiar with the 
painted villas of Como, and the malodorous hotel at the foot 
of the Thuner See, and the gay boats on the Lake of Luzerne, 
than with the meres and lochs of his native land ; and in that 
respect he represents a much larger constituency than Bour- 
ton-in-the-Marsh. However, we steam into Kilcreggan and 
touch at Cove, and then cross over to the Holy Loch, and to 
the small village of Strone. At this point, which juts out 
into the Frith, and commands a magnificent view southward, 
with the misty peaks of Arran forming the furthest sign of 
land, Brown puts down his foot. 

“ You shall whisk me no further,” he remarks. “ I mean 
to study this section of Paradise before we continue our trav- 
els. For who knows but that we may suddenly find our- 
selves at the gates ? ” 

Not only that, but the little inn at Strone, which we pres- 
ently reached, instantly recommended itself to Mr. Brown as 
the very place where he could accomplish that great project 
which was constantly before his mind. 

“ This is the very place,” he remarked confidentially, “ to 
spend a week in, and get up some subject. You know I have 
all those papers about the salaries of Custom Clerks in my 
bag. Would you believe it, a member of the Ministry spent 
the whole of his holidays, a year or two ago, in going into 
this very matter. And it only needs the mastery of certain 
details to prove the excessive hardship — 


IN THE HiGHLAHDS. 


9 

Mr. Brown never finished the sentence. His eye somehow 
got lost in the far distance where ships were crossing the 
broad blue plain lying between the Cloch Lighthouse and 
Dunoon. He forgot all about Parliament. How could one 
remember the dusky chamber, and the rows of orange faces, 
in view of this great breadth of sea, where the specks of 
steamers were slowly moving, with a line of smoke in their 
wake, and in view of the pleasant stretch of beach, where the 
clear green water was plashing idly on the pebbles } Up the 
Holy Loch, at the mouth of which Strone stands, the water 
lay still and blue as a sapphire, but out toward the sea there 
was a windy grayness that lost itself in the haze about Cum- 
brae and Bute. For some considerable time the contempla- 
tive member stood on the steps of the inn, as dead as the 
Sphinx to all outward inprcssions ; and then, slowly coming 
back to the world around him, he found himself scanning an 
announcement which was posted up on a board at the end of 
the pier. It informed us that Mr. M’Farlane was disposed 
to let out horses and carriages for hire. In a very few min- 
utes thereafter we were seated in a wagonette, and on the 
way to Loch Eck and Ardentiniiy. 

Very pleasant indeed is the shady drive under the great 
hills that lie above the Holy Loch. But what seemed to in- 
press my companion most — especially as we got up the valley 
of the Echaig, and found the fresh-water Loch Eck stretching 
out before us under its splendid panorama of mountains — 
was the exceeding solitariness of the place. Here were no 
fashionable hotels or parties of elderly ladies being driven 
about in close carriages, or villas built on the site of cottages 
once inhabited by poets. By the side of the lonely lake we 
came to a rude little inn where the Member for Bourton-in- 
the-Marsh and our Highland driver hob-and-nobbed over a 
trifle of honest Lagavulin whisky that had a look of peat-reek 
and moss-water about its soft yellow hue ; and then, with 
freshened spirits and keener pace we dashed down the great 
and open glen that leads under the slopes of Cruachan back 
to Loch Long. How the long blue lake shone in the light as 
we came near it ! and how green the trees were all about 
Ardentinny, where Tannahill met the lass whose praises are 
now sung in every Scotch village ! Here too Mr. Brown, 
M. P., lingered awhile, remarking that a cautious man never 
pronounced upon whisky until he had tasted it twice. I 
think he said something about Sir Wilfred Lawson — but that 
is not to the purpose. Suffice it to add that we drove back 


10 


MR. PISlSTRATUS BROPPAT, M.P., 


to Strone, along the level shores of Loch Long, in the calm 
of the evening ; and there were plover whistling afar off in 
the twilight, and fish leaping up with a splash in the quiet 
bays. 

Then having returned to the Holy Loch. Mr. Brown 
would have dinner postponed for yet another couple of hours; 
and we went to enjoy the humble sport of deep-sea fishing. 
No man ever died from excitement over this form of amuse- 
ment ; but still, in the gathering darkness, with the mountains 
around the head of the loch growing of a deep purple under 
the clear silver-gray of the twilight, it had its recompenses. 
And by the time we hauled up anchor to row home, the lights 
of Strone were burning like stars of gold ; and in the east 
there were a faint star or two ; and high over the Cloch Light- 
house — which was sending a calm yellow ray over the sea — 
there rose the faint sickle of the moon, to touch the wet 
blades of our oars as they rose and fell. 


CHAPTER. H. 

AN INVITATION. 

With the morning breeze blowing coolly in from the sea, 
through an open window that showed us the blue waters of 
the Frith, with the whiting and codlings he had caught the 
night before now lying crisp and hot on the table before him. 
with bis eye ranging over fresh cream, and excellent butter, 
and hot rolls; Mr. Brown, M.P., would have been happy 
enough ; but you may guess his frame of mind when a letter 
brought us both an urgent invitation to join the party on 
board the schooner-yacht Kittiewake, then lying up in Loch 
Shira, at the head of Loch Fyne. Now the owner of the 
Kittiwake is also an M.P. ; but he sits on the Opposition 
benches, and during the session just closing has done his 
best to vex the Government. I remind the Member for 
Bourton-in-the-Marsh of this fact, and hint that he may as 
well be cautions about joining the Kittiwake. 

“ Mr. Gladstone won’t see me,” he replies, with a solemn 
wink, and the half- whisper with which a boy talks of playing 
truant. “ Besides, could you get any place more fitted than 


IN THE HIGHLANDS, 


II 


a yacht for beginning to study an off-subject seriously ? Those 
Customs Clerk’s salaries, you know ” 

Some half-hour thereafter two contemplative travellers 
might have been seen on the small wooden pier of Blairmore, 
patiently waiting for the Carrick Castle. Blairmore is a place 
of excessive importance, for it has a telegraph office; and 
It is a pretty place withal, its straggling row of cottages lying 
at the foot of what we English folks would call a mountain, 
while the bold rocks that form its shore alternate with charm- 
ing little bays, where the clear, wave lets plash on white sand 
and beds of pebbles. Its inhabitants, at this moment, appar- 
ently consist of three men, who sit on the rocks and bask idly 
in the sun ; but as the Carrick Castle comes churning her 
way over from Kilcreggan, other signs of life become visible. 
Some young ladies who have been transacting business in the 
grocery store come down to the quay in full holiday-costume ; 
and Mr. Brown — but there is no saying who may read this 
veracious narrative. Suffice it to say that the Carrick Castle 
at last arrives, with a prodigious blowing of steam and noise 
of paddle ; that we scramble on board by a gangway which is 
almost perpendicular ; and that, as we leave the quay to steam 
up the calm and lovely waters of Loch Long, my companion 
expresses his profound disgust to find, by recognizing certain 
southern accents, that he has run against a batch of the inev- 
itable tourists. Though why one tourist should hate all other 
tourists, and cherish wicked hopes that they may be drowned, 
or run over, or smashed up in a collision ; and why any one- 
traveller, abroad or at home, should think that all Europe was 
meant only for him, and draw a miraculous distinction be- 
tween himself and the herd, is a problem which the British 
Association would fail to solve. 

Once more we pass the half-dozen cottages that form the 
pretty village of Ardentinny, and then before us open out the 
northern stretches of Loch Long, with vast ranges of moun- 
tains rising beyond into the pale blue sky. Nowhere, per- 
haps, in all the West Highlands is there to be found so much 
variety of mountain outline as in this splendid group of hills 
— some of them low, and smooth, and undulating, with their 
patches of bracken and heather become as soft as velvet under 
the warm midday light — others more lofty, but still round 
and flowing in outline, with immense fir-forests stretching to 
their summit, and woolly fragments of cloud clinging here 
and there to the trees — and beyond these again serrated peaks, 
as blue and sharp as the outline of Arran when the island 


12 


MR. PISISTRATUS BROWN. M.P., 


grows dark before a storm. To-day we have every variety of 
effect, as there are huge masses of white cloud slowly drifting 
over from the western sea ; and now it is the knobbly heights 
of “ Argyle’s Bowling-green,” and now it is the peaks of the 
Cobbler and Ben Ima, and again the far hills that stretch 
over to Loch Lomond that catch the dark blue shadows and 
brighten up again as the clouds pass. 

That mountainous promontory which has been grimly called 
Argyle’s Bowling-green,” cuts the upper portion of Loch 
Long into two branches, and the more picturesque of these 
two, Loch Goil, runs up between the hills for a matter of 
eight or ten miles. In summer-time nothing could be more 
still and beautiful than this little loch, when the woods, and 
crags, and mountains on both sides of it are reflected in its 
dark-blue mirror. On a rock that juts out into the loch 
stand the shattered ruins of Carrick Castle (after which our 
bright little steamer is named), building which must have 
proved a powerful stronghold in the old days when rapine 
and slaughter devastated those silent glens at the bidding 
of rival chiefs. But these Highland soltitudes are fast be- 
coming peopled — in the summer-time, at least — by the push- 
ing and industrious Saxon, who saves up his money in Glas- 
gow, and then comes down here to build a cottage, or a villa, 
or a castle — as his means and tastes suggests — at the foot of 
the mountains. The Gaelic-speaking population have become 
shepherds, fishermen, boatmen, and so forth ; while there 
are in every village a number of inhabitants who have no 
ostensible occupation, but eke out a living by doing odd jobs 
in gardening or game-keeping for the Lowland or English visi- 
tor. Yet these Highland folk retain many of the tradi- 
tional characteristics of their race. They are hospitable, 
courteous, and quick in apprehension ; while' even the poor- 
est of them have a certain self-respect and independence 
which is very different from certain peculiarities of our agri- 
cultural laborer. Ask a shepherd to show you the way if you 
happen to get lost among the hills, and he will walk a couple 
of miles to do so ; he will accept a glass of whisky gravely, 
and sit down with you to converse about matters in general, 
and especially about a son of a Duke having married a 
daughter of the Queen ; but in a few minutes he will have 
convinced the stranger that it would be impossible to offer 
him a shilling. But this independence and sense of equality 
■ — which is no assumption, but the natural habit of men who 
are unaccustomed to the social distinctions of cities — gets 


IN THE HIGHLANDS. 


13 

sadly impaired along the route that tourists, and, above all, 
English tourists, frequent. There the Highlander not unfre- 
quently becomes a sort of Red Indian — greedy, cunning, ob- 
sequious, and given to copious drinking. Taking the bad 
with the good, however, the Highlanders are a fine race ; and 
some — among them, I should think, Mr. Matthew Arnold — 
will regret that those Celtic tribes are being from day to day 
pushed further back into the mountains, instead of holding 
their own and tempering Saxon civilization with their non- 
commercial virtues and their poetic imaginative habit of 
mind. 

When we landed at the little village of Lochgoilhead, and 
walked along the curve of the shore to the inn, Mr. Brown 
once more put down his foot. He would not budge — Kitti- 
wake or no Kittiwake. 

“ Who knows when I may be here again ? ” he asked (for 
it is said he has some dark notion of being appointed the 
governor of an unpronounceable island in the Pacific), “ and 
do you think I am going to leave a spot like this without 
seeing it, merely because a man offers me a berth in a yacht ? 
Besides, I must put those papers in order before going on 
board, you know ” 

Mr. Brown did not touch the papers. Some half-hour 
after luncheon, when he had sat and ga^ed down the loch, 
and admired the shadows of the mountain and clouds that 
mingled with the green rushes at the head of the lake, the 
spirit of the mountaineer arose within him, and nothing 
would do but an ascent of the highest hill in the neighbor- 
hood. Accordingly we set out for the summit of Ben Donich, 
following for a time the course of a small river that comes 
tumbling in white and brown masses down a rocky channel. 
It was a tedious and laborious ascent, but when, after two 
hours’ constant climbing, we stood by the heap of stones on 
the bare and windy top, the view amply repaid us. All 
around lay a magnificent panorama of mountains — on the 
north especially, they seemed to be Tiuddled against each 
other like mighty waves that had been suddenly petrified ; 
while far away in the south lay the broad waters of the Frith 
and the open sea, with a network of lochs, and islands, and 
promontories between. We sat there so long and so silent 
that a mountain hare came out from its hiding, and then, 
catching sight of us, darted like lightning over the scant 
grass and the rocks. As we turned to descend, the hills 
west of Loch Fyne were growing purple under a pale yellow 


14 MR. PISISTRATUS BROWN, M.P., 

sunset ; and Loch Goil, beneath our feet, lay still and gray 
under the dark shadows of Ben Bheulah and Ben-an-Lochan. 
Indeed, when we got down to the village, night had 
fallen ; but it was the clear, pale-green night that in those 
high latitudes is only a twilight. We sat down to dinner 
when most of the inhabitants of Lochgoilhead had doubtless 
got to bed ; and thereafter we discussed, over a small beaker 
of the wine of the country, our plans for the morrow. 

“That coach that goes through HelFs Glen to Loch Fyne 
does not start till one o’clock,” remarked the Member for 
Bourton-in-the-Marsh, “ and before then I shall have time to 
take a look at those comparative scales of salaries.” 


CHAPTER IV. 

THROUGH hell’s GLEN. 

A WILD morning of rain, and wind, and driving mist had 
broken over Loch Goil and its amphitheatre of hills ; and 
when Mr. Brown, M.P., looked out of his bedroom window 
he scarcely recognized the place. The loch was a plain of 
stormy gray, with white-tipped waves rushing up ; Carrick 
Castle had disappeared as completely as if the Athol men 
had finished their work and swept it into the sea ; while the 
great clouds of mist that came over from the west worked 
such wonders with the hills, that Ben Bheulah and Ben-an- 
Lochan seemed playing at hide and seek behind the vast 
white veil. But as the morning wore on a brief glimmer of 
sunshine broke out between the showers ; and at length, 
while the clouds seemed to gather themselves up in black 
and thunderous masses over the entrance to Hell’s Glen, a 
great splatch of blue appeared in the sky, and corresponding 
dashes of color began to show on the lake. And then, 
across the bars of sunshine, the steamer came slowly up the 
loch ; and as the noise of the funnel broke on the silence of 
the place, we made our way down toward the pier to catch 
one of the two coaches. 

Behold us now perched on the box-seat of a huge vehicle, 
that has a team of five horses to draw it up and Over the 
mountain pass that lies between Lochgoilhead and Loch 


/iV- TtiE I^IGHLAMD^. 


Fyne. Whether this gorge was called Hell’s Glen by reason 
of the wild and rugged nature of its scenery, or on account of 
the intense heat that the mountains reflect down into its 
depths, it is hard to say ; but at all events the whole place is 
haunted with legends of Satan, and a surly old gentleman 
who used to live in a solitary farm here came to be known as 
the devil himself. Shortly after leaving Lochgoilhead the 
road through the pass begins to ascend, and leads by the side 
of a rocky ravine, down which a powerful stream thunders 
night and day. In front of us the mountains seem to form a 
gigantic barrier, but gradually we catch a glimpse of a white 
road far up the side of a distant hill ; and as the horses seem 
to have plenty to do, the road being rather heavy, we all get 
out and set out to climb up a short cut — a wet and slippery 
footpath, which leads through tangled oak, and willow, and 
birch. Away on the right of us glimmers the road that leads 
to Glencroe and that “ Rest-and-be-thankful,” on which 
Wordsworth wrote a sonnet (having a trick of writing a sonnet 
on most things he saw anywhere). Higher and still higher 
rises the road — while we occasionally overtake and occasion- 
ally lag behind, the painfully toiling coach ; while the moun- 
tains in front are continually changing their aspect under the 
breezy sky. And at last, when we have nearly got to the end 
of the giant pass — the road on which we stand being itself 
2400 feet above the level of the sea — lo ! at our feet we sud- 
denly find the whole length of Lock Fyne, with its wooded 
hills shimmering greenly in the sun, and the small steamer 
at St. Catherine’s waiting to take us across. We are still a 
few miles from the loch ; but up on this height the broad 
shoulders of wild moorland that slope down to the water are 
as nothing ; and we feel ourselves already opposite Inverary, 
and the gray castle of the duke, that seems but a speck 
among the trees, and the bold front of Duniquoich, with its 
watch-tower perched high on the bare rock. 

The descent from this pinnacle to St Catherine’s will 
never be forgotten by any one who has sat on the box-seat of 
the coach. To drive a four-in-hand along Piccadilly and 
through the Park, and up again by Kensington Gore, seems 
to the unitiated a comparatively safe and easy performance ; 
but to take a team of five horses at full galop down a steep 
mountain road, which has sharp turns in it, and an occasional 
narrow stone bridge that spans a chasm, is a very different 
matter. And as Mr. Brown felt himself getting through the 
air at an alarming rate of speed, he became silent. He had 


1 6 MR. PISISTRA TUS BRO WN M.P., 

beeirtalking Parliamentary rapture about the view ; but now 
his face was fixed as that of Memnon, and he only turned his 
eyes from the necks of the five horses in front of him to the 
pile of trunks behind him, which threatened to come down 
and nip his head off as a girl might nip off a rosebud. 

“ Do you sometimes let a horse down ? ” he said at length, 
in a timid way, to the driver. 

“ Sometimes,” was the grim reply. 

“ But, as a rule, they are sure-footed, eh ? ” 

“ Oo, aye, as a rule ; but a horse is no infallible, ony mair 
than a man.” 

Mr. Brown said nothing, but held firmly on, as the coach, 
and luggage, and passengers swung round the corners of 
bridges, or dipped into the hollows of the road. But when 
we finally got down to the shore, and stopped at St. Cather- 
ine's, Mr. Brown descended, shook himself, and came for- 
ward with a very different look on his face. He was quite 
cheerful now. He spoke of the drive in a familiar and a dry 
way, and asked if we had not “ come a cracker ” down that 
hill. 

“ I should not like to have brought those horses down,” 
he said, critically scanning the team. “ With a pair, you know, 
it would have been different.” 

Right opposite us now lay the straggling white houses of 
Inverar)^, and the handsome clumps of trees around the Duke 
of Argyle’s castle, and the mouth of the little armlet of Loch 
Fyne that is known as Loch Shirra. 

“ And there, as I live, is the Kittiwake coming over for 
us,” remarked Mr. Brown, pointing to a handsome little cut- 
ter of about 30 tons that was running across the loch be- 
fore a westerly breeze. I ventured to suggest to Mr. Brown 
who is much more familiar with the forms of the House 
than with nautical matters that schooner-yachts have, as a 
rule, two masts, and that this little cutter cannot fairly be 
suspected of measuring 60 tons. 

“ Ah, to be sure,” said Mr. Brown carelessly. “ I was think- 
ing of something else — of those Custom clerks' papers, you 
know. I really forgot all about them this morning. But 
there will be plenty of time on board the yacht.” 

We crossed over Loch Fyne to Inverary in the little 
steamer that was waiting at the pier ; and, as luck would 
have it, discovered the owner of the Kittiwake in the inn at 
which we begged for some lunch. The member for the 
ancient and historical borough of Slow, in Somersetshire, is 


IN THE HIGHLANDS. 


17 

a tall, bluff, rosy-cheeked gentleman, with a tremendous 
laugh, a fine belief in Conservative principles, and a knowl- 
edge of shooting and yachting which the editor of a sport- 
ing paper might envy. His name is Weyland, and he is the 
colonel of a volunteer regiment. He is great in the House 
between half-past four and five ; for he has the art of asking 
the Government the most vexatious conundrums, which no 
Minister can answer. We receive a boisterous and hearty 
welcome ; and then says Mr. Brown — 

“Wasn’t it here that Dr. Johnson asked for a gill of 
whisky, to find out what made a Scotchman happy ? ” 

The hint was enough ; and the steward of the Kittiwake, 
who was in attendance, was ordered to bring in, for testing 
purposes, a jar of whisky that had just been purchased in the 
inn. Warmed with a moderate quantity of that fiery fluid, 
Mr. Brown’s reminiscences came thickly on him. 

“ Didn’t Captain Dalgetty visit this place ? And there 
are herrings here, I know. And didn’t Burns come to this 
very inn, or some other inn, and write something on the 
window ? But what will the people say when the Queen 
comes ? And — and — Weyland, old fellow, you’re looking 
firstrate.” 

Mr. Brown, indeed, was in excellent spirits as we started 
for a walk up to the castle that was then expected to receive 
a Royal visit. The building itself is not an architectural 
marvel — being a plain, square mass of gray chlorite-slate, 
with a tower at each corner, and a tall winged pavilion rising 
over the centre. But the position and surroundings of In- 
verary Castle are singularly beautiful. The rivers Aray and 
Shira brawl down from the mountains along rocky channels 
that come through dense woods, and are hanging with masses 
of ferns and wild flowers ; the grounds around the castle are 
intersected by magnificent avenues of elms and limes, that 
have made many a fine perspective for the camera ; and the 
building itself, from the summit of a smooth plateau, faces 
the blue waters and steep hills of Loch Shira and Loch Fyne, 
and on the left, the bold peak of Duniquoich, that seems to 
keep guard over the far and unseen deer-haunts of Ardkin- 
glas. 

Thereafter we walked leisurely up and along the margin 
of Loch Shira, to the little bay in which the Kittiwake lay at 
anchor, her sails furled, and her graceful spars mirrored ac- 
curately on the still surface beneath. Mr. Brown was in such 
a gay humor, that he volunteered to steer the gig which was 


1 8 MjR. PISISTRATUS BROWI^, M.P., 

sent ashore for us ; and the post of honor was willingly ac- 
corded him. It seemed to one, at least, of the party whom 
he thus conducted, that he made one or two preliminary 
pulls with the ropes, to see which way the boat’s head would 
turn ; but all the same we got safely toward the neighborhood 
of the yacht, and then our coxswain wisely allowed the men 
to get up to the gangway by the manipulation of the oars. 
A proud man he was a's he stepped on the white deck and 
looked round him on the trim and bright vessel, on the calmj 
bosom of the lake, and the fair scenery around. His arms 
were crossed as are those of Dan O’Connell in the portrait 
in the Reform Club ; and he appeared ready to burst out 
with a noble quotation from Sir Walter Scott. It would 
have been the deepest cruelty to hint that the Customs clerks 
were wearying for that reform in their salaries which he had 
privately undertaken to secure. 


CHAPTER IV. 

SETTING FORTH. 

When on the following morning Mr. Pisistratus Brown, 
M.P., came up on deck, no words could convey his delight 
with the comforts and luxuries of the Kittiwake. The in- 
genious manner in which use had been made of every cor- 
ner ; the pretty decorations in the saloon ; the excellence of 
the meats and drinks that Weyland’s steward had placed be- 
fore us for supper — all were matter of enthusiastic 
encomium ; but the climax of his praise was reached in 
describing how he found an elegant little washhand-basin 
and a veritable fresh-water pipe in his bedroom. Here a 
shout of laughter was heard, and the Member for Slow put 
his head above the companion-ladder. 

“ Well, whatever you may call it,” said Mr. Brown, with 
some natural irritation, “ it is a bedroom. I don’t care 
whether it’s a hatchway, or a tarpaulin, or a jib-boom, so 
long as I get a comfortable night’s rest in it.” 

However, Mr. Brown soon began to pick up nautical 
phrases, and he could scarcely be persuaded to go below for 
breakfast, so interested was he in seeiitg the men get the 


IN THE HIGHLANDS. 


19 

Kittlwake under weigh. Indeed, no one spent much time 
over that meal, for we were all anxious to have a final look 
at Inverary. And so, when we again went on deck, we 
found the large white sails of the Kittiwake bending ovei 
before a gentle breeze, and as we bore down the blue waters 
of Loch Fyne, Inverary, and the gray castle, and the noble 
avenues of trees went slowly past us in a moving panorama. 
The mountains up by the head of the lock were still dim and 
misty, and away toward the deer-forests of Ardkinglas gray 
swathes of cloud still hung about the hills ; but round about 
us the sunlight was clear and warm, striking on the breezy 
blue of the lake, on the white stretch of shore, and on the 
woods that were still green and moist with the dews of the 
night. 

“ If I were the Duke of Argyle,” said the Member for 
Bourton-in-the-Marsh, as he pensively regarded the beautiful 
picture formed by the semicircular head of the loch, with In- 
verary Castle nestling under the woods and hills, “ do you 
think I’d spend night after night in that melancholy hall lis- 
tening to toothless old gentlemen mumbling incoherent 
speeches that the country doesn’t care twopence about — ■ — ” 

“ I wish you’d speak with more respect of the House of 
Lords,” said the Member for Slow warmly. “ Whatever the 
country may think, mind you, these men are doing their best 
for it, when they might, if they chose, be fishing in Norway, 
or enjoying themselves on the Mediterranean, or skylarking 
among these lochs, just like you and me, who have no busi- 
ness here whatever.” 

“ I have only to say,” remarked Mr. Brown, with some 
suspicion of reserve and coldness in his manner, “ that I am 
not neglecting my duties voluntarily. When I think of the 
Ministry and my fellow-members continually sitting up till 
three or four o’clock in the morning in this weather, I should 
be ashamed to find myself here if I had not definite instruc- 
tions from my doctor.” 

Here the Conservative Member was rude enough to wink; 
and one of our party, a large and good-natured Glasgow bail- 
lie, broke into a horse laugh. 

“ Besides,” continued Mr. Brown, taking no heed of the 
interruption, “ a private member may do more good to his 
country by taking a brief holiday in order to study a certain 
subject, than by merely remaining to form a unit in a ‘me- 
chanical ’ majority that is already big enough. I have at 
this moment downstairs — well, I suppose I must say ‘ below ' 


20 


MR, PISISTRATUS 'BROWN, M.P., 


— papers on a financial topic which deserves, and even de- 
mands, serious consideration. The salaries of Government 
officials form a subject which requires careful scrutiny ; and 
how can you give it more time and attention than by taking 
a short holiday ? ” 

“ I suppose you’ve found out that some police-clerk has 
12S. 6d, a year more than he should have,” said the Member 
for Slow, with a prodigious grin ; and then, putting aside the 
quarrel, he asked Mr. Brown whether he preferred the Camp- 
beltown or the Islay distilleries. Mr. Brown replied in favor 
of Lagavulin ; and the political discussion was adjourned 
die until the afternoon.” 

As we opened out the successive bays and headlands 
formed by the undulating shores of Cowal, the full stretch of 
Loch Fyne came broadly into view, until far in the south we 
could see the bold line of rocky cliff that runs down from 
Tarbert to Skipness, and beyond that again the pale blue 
mountains of Arran, showing a jagged and faint outline 
against the sky. No plan of our cruise had been as yet ac- 
curately decided upon ; and it was left for Mr. Brown to s^y 
whether we should go through the Crinan Canal and take a 
trip to Oban, or go for a preliminary run through the Kyles 
of Bute and thereafter round by Arran, Cantire, and Islay. 
He decided on the former, but insisted in the first place that 
we should have an opportunity of seeing one of the fleets of 
lyoch Fyne fishing-boats setting out, which he had heard was 
a most picturesque sight. It was accordingly arranged that 
we should anchor in Loch Gilp for that day, and not attempt 
to go through the Crinan until the following morning. So it 
happened that we got down to Ardrishaig, at the end of the 
Crinan Canal, about midday ; and when the yacht had been 
safely anchored we went ashore to see the Iona come in with 
her cargo of tourists bound for the North. 

When the stately steamer at length showed her two red 
funnels coming round the point, Mr. Brown hastened down 
to the pier, apparently with the notion that he might meet 
some friend from the South. But when the small and hur- 
rying crowd bustled out of the boat, and struggled through 
the swarm of barefooted boys anxious to carry their luggage 
for them, they were found to be all strangers, and Mr. fcown 
regarded them as they walked up to the small steamer on 
the canal, with a look of profound compassion. Yet why 
should tourists be regarded as strange and unhappy beings, 
whom one should regard with sympathy ? There was nothing 


IN THE HIGHLANDS, 


21 


mournful in the procession of people who carried their hand 
bags, and top-coats, and umbrellas, and what not, and who 
seemed to regard the little steamer on the canal as a mere 
toy after their acquaintance with the spacious and handsome 
Iona. We saw the poor creatures off. Somehow they seemed 
to be away from home. They were going out into that wild 
western region where the Atlantic waves roll in among lonely 
islands ; and we half feared they might never return to the 
South, or that they might experience rain or some other dire 
evil. As for ourselves, we were going through the Crinan, 
too ; but we should be quite at home, and were certain to 
enjoy it. 

A fine sight it was, that setting out of the herring fleet in 
the yellow afternoon, with the bronzed and varnished hulls 
of the boats shining like so many spots of brownish red on 
the calm blue of the lake. Here, too, were none of the tat- 
tered and pot-bellied fishermen of Brighton, living on occa- 
sional hauls of mackerel and occasional shillings got from 
visitors — but crews of lithe and stalwart men, big-boned and 
spare-fleshed, who plied the enormous oars with a swing and 
ease that told of splendid physiques, hard exercise, and toler- 
ably good living. The wind had entirely gone down, and the 
various boats that left the harbor in straggling groups formed 
a strange sort of picturesque regatta, their oars scarcely 
troubling that still plain of blue. Here and there a brown 
sail hung half-mast high, just in case a slight breeze might 
be got at the mouth of the bay ; but each boat had its four 
enormous oars regularly rising and falling as they all drew 
away from us. And we could hear the laugh and jest come 
across the still water, as two of the boats would get within 
speaking distance ; and now and again a verse of some shrill 
Gaelic song would float towards us, the notes of it keeping 
time to the oars. The further the boats drew out toward the 
broad bosom of the loch, the deeper grew their color under 
the warm and level light of the sun, until many of them 
seemed like rose-colored buoys placed far out on that smooth 
plain. And then, as they reached a line of darker water on 
the loch, we could see them one by one run up the broad 
brown sail to catch the light breeze. And while we still sat 
and wondered how they would spend the long and dark night, 
and what songs would be sung by the side of the stove, and 
whether rain would compel them to make the sail into a tent, 
and what sort of take they would bring home with them in 
the cold gray hours of the dawn, lo 1 the boats had disappeared 


22 


MR. PISISTRATUS BROWN M.P., 


as if by magic, and there was nothing before us but the far 
and desolate shores of Cowal. 

We had a pleasant evening in the snug little saloon of the 
Kittiwake ; and Mr. Brown for once postponed the considera- 
tion of the Customs clerks’ grievance in order to stake six- 
pence at loo (limited). And then, as he departed to his 
state-room (having won the price of a box of cigars, or there- 
abouts), he informed us that on the next day he would show 
us all how to detect the presence of water-hens. 

“ Cras to-morrow, iterabimus^ we sail, ingens (Bqnor 
through the Crinan Canal.” 

These were hi's parting words ; and they were very fairly 
pronounced. 


CHAPTER V. 

THROUGH THE CRINAN. 

What is a canal ? The ordinary answer would be, a nar- 
row and monotonous channel filled with a yellow fluid, that 
connects disagreeable places, and is the medium of a cheap 
and unpicturesque traffic. The dull-hued snake that winds 
about our manufacturing towns, that lies amid coal-dust and 
the refuse of factories, is, if possible, a more hideous thing 
than the melancholy suburbs around it. But there are canals 
and canals ; and up here in Argyleshire a canal becomes a suc- 
cession of clear little lochs, connected by a line of artificial 
channel that runs through the most charming scenery, and 
has its banks laden with trees, and bushes, and tangled masses 
of wild flowers. Here the small Highlander angles with a 
bent pin for fish that he can see down in the cool, clear depths ; 
here the water-hen hides in the sedges, or sails out on the 
calm surface to call her young together. As you walk along 
the grassy banks every hundred yards produces a new picture 
— from the moment you leave the blue sweep of Loch Gilp 
behind until you come in sight of Loch Crinan and the wild 
rocks that guard the harbor from the force of the western 
sea. On your right hand stretches a far plain, that is varied 
with stream, and wood, and rock; on your left peaks of 
the Knandale mountains are shut off by a range of hills that 


IN THU HIGHLANDS. 


n 

almost overshadow the canal, and are clad in all the verdure 
of bracken, and moss, and young oak and birch. You can 
hear the murmuring of streams in the deep little glens that 
are cloven in their sides ; and you can hear the call of the black- 
cock far up on the heathery knolls that shine in rosy purple 
under the fierce light of the midday sun. The small lakes 
that are strung like pearls On the lithe bank of the canal are 
wonders of loveliness ; and if you can only manage to escape 
the passage of the steamer you may forget that this is a 
canal, aiid find yourself lost in the utter loneliness of High- 
land scenery. 

There is every facility, too, for the stranger to enjoy the 
walk from Loch Gilp to Loch Crinan ; for toward the western 
side of the canal there are fifteen locks, and as the whole 
distance is only nine miles, one has ample time to get to 
Crinan on foot. Indeed, when we had seen the Kittiwake 
started on her voyage, we took no more thought of her, and 
speedily lost sight of her. Mr. Brown’s parting with her 
was almost pathetic ; he had acquired such a tenderness 
for the yacht as men get for favorite horses that have served 
them well. 

“ She looks like a queen taken captive,” he said, as they 
began to drag her ignominiously along. “I suppose when'* 
we see her in Loch Crinan, she will have her sails up again 
and be something like herself — freshening herself up, as it 
were, for her northward flight. And we shall see Jura, shall 
we not ? — and Scarba, and Corryvrecken, and Colonsay ? I 
declare to you, all last night, as the yacht lay and rolled in 
the ripple of the bay, it seemed to keep time to that old 
ballad about the Chief of Colonsay. You know how it 
goes — 

As you pass through Jura’s Sound, ^ 

Bend your course by Scarba’s shore, 

Shun, oh ! shun the gulf profound, 

Where Corryvreckan’s surges roar. 

Wouldn’t the house rise to a quotation like that — say that 
you were warning the Government against courting Opposi- 
tion cheers” — and here the Member for Bourton-in-the-Marsh 
unconsciously paused ; but his arm was still uplifted, and he 
gazed into blank space, as if his glittering eye had in reality 
seized the Treasury Bench and pinned Mr. Gladstone 
there. 

We were fortunate enough to miss the swarm of bare- 


24 


MR, PISISTRATUS BROWN, M. P., 


footed young Celts who haunt the passengers by the steamer, 
and offer to transact business in milk and hazel-nuts. We 
only met one of them — a small maiden of six or seven, with 
sun-tanned arms and feet, and hair so prodigiously fair as to 
be almost white. It was at the Carnbaan Inn — a convenient 
resting-place at the beginning of the series of locks. Mr. 
Brown, obeying a maxim of his medical adviser — “ Where- 
ever you travel, th. '^st drink is the vin du pays '^ — had 
refreshed himself wi. : modest quantity of the Lagavulin 
he had grown to love. .. ; was just coming out of the inn 

when that “kleine M. • Lenderin ” came forward with a 
little tin jug in her hand, and said with the peculiar High- 
land inflection that distinguishes North from South Scotland, 
“Are ye for any nits, sir ? ” Mr. Brown looked at the small 
and timid merchant, and said, “ My little girl, I don’t know 
what you say ; but you are too pretty a little girl to have no 
shoes and stockings, and so you will take this half-sovereign 
to your mother and tell her to buy you some.” 

Remonstrance with Mr. Brown, M. P., about this prepos- 
terous action was of no avail. It was useless to point out to 
him that he was corrupting a hardy independent population ; 
that all over the Highlands the children enjoyed the free- 
"dom and health of running about with bare feet and legs; 
and that this small girl was being transformed from a 
merchant into a pauper.' He folded up the coin in a piece 
of paper, and bade her put it in her pocket. Then in 
the most natural way in the world, she held out the jugful of 
hazel-nuts in return. The Member of Bourton-in-the-Marsh 
looked puzzled. He might have answered off-hand a 
conundrum about the Babs of Persia, or even accepted 
at a moment’s notice the command of an iron-clad, but 
he could not for the life of him tell what to do with two 
handfuls of green nuts. Yet there was a principle at stake : 
he was forced to take them. Finally he bethought himself 
of his hat : and so it befell that, until we were well out of 
sight of that little Highland woman, a member of the 
Imperial Legislature of this country walked with a hatful of 
nuts in his hand, while an almost vertical sun was pouring 
down its firecest rays on his bald head. 

Weyland, M.P. for Slow, and two other members of our 
party, had gone on during this exciting adventure ; and we 
eventually found them sitting in dead silence behind a group 
of tall bushes, opposite a part of the canal where there were 
abundant rushes on the other side. Weyland had in his 


IN THE HIGHLANDS. 


25 

hand a large black air- cane ; the Glasgow bailie was regard- 
ing rather timorously a saloon pistol. Mr. Brown became 
quite excited. 

“ You just watch me bring a moor-hen out. I will under- 
take to bring a moor-hen out in ten minutes from these rushes, 
and as many water-rats as you like from the bank there — for. 
half-a-sovereign I will.” 

“ It is rather a mean way of making up your losses by 
generosity,” I remark ; and then Mr. Brown creeps up on 
tiptoe to the bushes. His finger is on his lips. He sits down 
with an awful air of compressed energy on his face ; and then, 
in the stillness, he begins his performance. Since the days 
of Herr Von Joel — those happy days when songs, and glees, 
and choruses had not been supplanted by acrobats and ven- 
triloquists — no man has imitated the call of a bird as Mr. 
Brown now succeeds in doing. It is marvellous. We almost 
feel ourselves becoming moor-hens under the process. Only 
the real moor-hens do not seem to appear. Through chinks 
in the leaves we scan the dense rushes ; but there is no sign 
of that half-domestic wild fowl, whose yellow bill and bobbing 
head and white cleft tail are alike familiar to English rivers 
and to Scotch moorlands. But lo ! as if by magic another 
bird bobs up in the middle of the water, some distance further 
down. “ A dabchick ! ” is the mental exclamation of every 
one, and stealthily the smooth black tube that Weyland holds 
is pointed through the leaves. There is a sharp click, a splash 
in the water, and the next moment the dabchick is lying on 
the surface of the canal, its legs uppermost. 

“ You’ve spoilt your chance of getting a water-hen all for 
that miserable dabchick,” said Mr. Brown, with some irrita- 
tion. 

“ That miserable dabchick ! ” cried Weyland. “ You can 
take the breast of this dabchick, and give it to your lady-love 
to wear for your sake ; but what could you do with a water- 
hen ? Four-and-twenty of them could hardly flavor a steak- 
pie ; and then ketchup would do it as well.” 

“ I should have had a moor-hen out in another minute,” 
said Mr. Brown. 

“Nevermind,” said the Opposition Member; “you can 
work the charm another time.” 

Mr. Brown soon recovered from his disappointment, and 
began to talk enthusiastically of all that we were to see and 
do when we had got out to the wilder islands in the west. 
He bad vague plans for testing the flesh of various sea-fowl 


26 


MR, PISISTRATUS BROWN, M. P., 


to judge whether the home-produce of this country might not 
extend its area, and an addition be made to the food of the 
poor. Then he bethought him of making a collection of 
stuffed birds, all of his own killing, ranging from the lordly 
osprey down to the sea-lark. 

“ We shall have abundance of them,” he remarked confi- 
dentially, “ once we have got rid of these obstructions ; and 
you will see how I shall knock off that business connected 
with the grievances of the Customs clerks. I should be 
ashamed of having postponed the matter so long, but that 
the delay was unavoidable. How could one get up statistics, 
and make comparisons of tables, when we had all the bother 
of getting through the canal before us .>* Nobody could ex- 
pect one to carry a bundle of papers nine miles, and sit down 
to work by the side of the road, could they ? I don’t think 
I neglect my duty any more than anybody else. I am sure I 
don’t — I am the last man in the world to do so. But you’ve 
got to draw the line somewhere, and humor Nature, and 
temper mental work by physical exercise, or where would you 
be .? ” 


Mr. Brown spoke in quite an appealing and almost injured 
tone, which was quite unnecessary. Anybody who knows 
the inhabitants of Bourton-in the-Marsh is aware that not tor 
worlds would they change their representative ; and as for 
Customs clerks, they are so accustomed to waiting that they 
won’t mind. 

Towards the afternoon we were overtaken by the gayly- 
painted little screw steamer that transfers travellers going 
North from the Iona to the kindred vessel lying at Crinan. 
As we reached that small port, which nestles in a corner of a 
rocky bay, the great steamer had sailed away toward Oban, 
and the Kittiwake was lying out at anchor. When we had 
got on board, Mr. Brown went to the bow and surveyed the 
prospect. There was rather a lowering sky in the West ; but 
the gloom only heightened the wild and vague look of the 
rocks and islands lying out in the western sea, with the dusky 
peaks of Jura rising far in the Sourh. All manner of sea- 
birds were visible ; from the familiar gull that circled over- 
head, to the lonely heron that stood out at some distant pro- 
montory, a gray shadow against the dark rock. Mr. Brown 
went below to rummage among Weyland’s guns, and was 
disappointed to find that there were not over thirty or forty 
cartridges ready made. However, he came on deck again ; 


IN THE HIGHLANDS, 


2J 

adventures, and storms, and rocks, and legends, and the de- 
light of being separated from mankind. He was as anxious 
for the morrow as “ the brave Macphail ” who fell in with a 
mermaid as he was returning to his love of Colonsay ; and 
Weyland, who had discovered his friend’s copy of Leyden’s 
poems, read out in noble accents these appropriate lines : 

The lonely deck he paces o’er, 

Impatient for the rising day ; 

And still from Crinan's moonlight shore, 

He turns his eyes to Colonsay. 


CHAPTER VI. 

FROM CRINAN TO OBAN. 

As the tall Kittiwake stood out from Crinan Bay, with her 
white sails filled with a light breeze, her smooth decks shin- 
ing in the sun, and her bows dipping gracefully to the long 
and even swell coming in from the Atlantic, Mr. Brown, 
M. P., clinging stoutly to the steel shrouds, became quite 
enthusiastic over the loveliness of the scene before him. He 
descanted to us on the wild and desolate look of Jura, with 
her gloomy mountains rising up in the southern sky ; he 
turned to the smaller islands near him, and pointed out their 
rich colors that were soft and smooth in the haze of the heat ; 
his eagle eye detected all manner of strange sea birds poised 
over or floating on the blue waters ; and he declared that the 
motion of the yacht was delightful. 

“ Interfusa nitentes vites aequora Cycladas,” he exclaimed, 
in quite a solemn and parliamentary tone, — “ avoid the tur- 
bulent sea amid the shining Cyclades, as one might say; but 
did the Cyclades ever shine in bluer waters than these, and 
did Horace ever see islands more fair in his dreams of the 
Mediterranean ? And I would dare to add that there is more 
imaginative power in the wild legends that hallow those 
lonely rocks and seas than in a cartload of the stories con- 
nected with the puddles and sandhills of Greece. Homer ! 
I maintain that there is more depth of passion, of emotion, 
and of strong human interest in such a ballad as ‘ Helen of 
Kirkconnel ’ than in twenty Iliads all boiled up together in a 


28 


MR. PISISTRATUS BROWN, M. P., 


tin-pot ; and as for the blatant history of that nincompoop 
^neas, it is tas atrocious a piece of commonplace manufac- 
ture as was ever committed in this miserable world ; and if 
you want true imaginative and lyrical power, which is the 
sum and substance of poetry ” 

Mr. Weyland, from the companion-ladder, handed up a 
breech-loader. The Member for Bourton-in-the-Marsh re- 
garded it fora moment with contempt ; but he took it, never- 
theless, and began to place a couple of cartridges in the 
barrels. We heard no more of Mr. Brown’s theories of 
poetry, for he carefully made his way up to the bow, and 
placed himself there so that he might have a shot at any of 
those wild creatures which he had ventured to name for us. 
It is remarkable, however, that with two members of Parlia- 
ment on board no one could find out in what month the 
statutory prohibition of shooting sea-fowl ends ; but then, as 
Mr. Weyland remarked, it would be a hard thing if people 
who made the laws were not allowed to break them. 

And so the Kittiwake sped on, opening out the Dorus Mor, 
or Great Gate, and gradually getting into those long swirls 
of sea that sweep round from Scarba, and produce strange 
bubblings and lines of foam on the calmest day. Away over 
on our left lay the channel between Jura and Scarba, where 
the whirlpool of Corryvreckan raves. We listened intently 
to catch the strange noise of its waters which had been de- 
scribed by many a poet as forever haunting “ the distant isles 
that hear the loud Corbrechtan roar.” Campbell, who lived 
some miles to the south of Loch Crinan, says that even there 
he could hear the sound of the Corryvreckan straits. “ When 
the weather is calm, and the adjacent sea scarcely heard on 
these picturesque shores, its sound, which is like the sound 
of innumerable chariots, creates a magnificent and fine 
effect.” No echo reached us of the turmoil which gener- 
ally does prevail in that narrow channel. But all around 
us were evidences of those powerful currents that have 
gained for Corryvreckan its legendary fame. The sea 
around us seemed to boil up from mighty springs ; and here 
and there, between those spacious circles of foam, we could 
see the thin hard line of a current. As the Kittiwake slowly 
made headway through the calm-looking whirlpools, her bow 
was caught every few minutes by some powerful stream, and 
twisted round with a sudden jerk. At other times she would 
come to a dead stop, as if she had run against a wall of iron. 
But so far from there being anything in the shape of a pictur- 


m THE HIGHLANDS, 


29 

esque whirlpool, with a hollow centre, and a circumference of 
tossing waves, even the low ground swell of the Atlantic 
had disappeared. It is easy to understand, however, 
that these treacherous currents may, at certain seasons 
of the year, be greatly, intensified in the rocky channel 
between Scarba and Jura ; and, although the whirlpool 
of Corryvreckan, and its figures in books illustrative of 
natural wonders, is a myth, the swirls of the sea in the nar- 
row straits have destroyed many a boat and drowned many a 
man, while in the calmest season the passage is never with- 
out a certain danger. Mr. Weyland, who is somewhat 
anxiously looking after the conduct of the Kittiwake, tells 
us that one evening last summer a profound excitement was 
caused in Oban by the report that the large steamer from 
Crinan, with all its valuable cargo of Southern tourists, had 
been drawn into the whirlpool of Corryvreckan, and wrecked 
on the rocks of Scarba. How such a wild story became cur- 
rent in a town which must be familiar with the channel, it is 
difficult to understand ; but, as a matter of fact, hour after 
hour passed, and the steamer did not come in. Next morn- 
ing, when everyone hurried down to the Quay to learn the 
news, the safety of the steamer was secured, but various 
forms of wild stories were being told of perilous escapes and 
dangers by sea. It eventually turned out that the mate of 
the steamer had sighted some smack or similiar sailing ves- 
sel drifting toward Corryvreckan ; that he, with a couple of 
men, put off in a boat and overtook her, found her a derelict 
and towed, or endeavored to tow, her back to the steamer, 
while the passengers were probably repaid by the excite- 
ment of the chase for their being kept two or three hours 
late in getting to Oban. So that Corryvreckan is still 
believed in among its nearest neighbors. 

Mr. Brown came aft abruptly. 

“Take this gun,” he said. 

The Member for Slow, who was contemplatively smoking 
a very large meerschaum, while his right hand rested on the 
tiller, and his eyes were leisurely scanning the long sweep of 
blue water before us, looked up with amazement. Mr. Brown 
gave the breech-loader to the Glasgow bailie — who handled 
it nervously, as a bachelor handles a baby — and said, with 
decision : 

“ This is a good opportunity, I think, for rny entering into 
that question of the salaries now given to our clerks in the 
Customs. In such a matter delay only breeds discontent • 


MR, PISIRTrATUR PROPVM, M, P, 


30 

and the Government, I am sure, will not be sorry to have the 
subject calmly, fully, and accurately placed before them by a 
private member.” 

Mr. Brown went down into his state-room, with quite a 
look of earnestness on his face. Presently he reappeared 
with a bundle of papers in his hand ; and then, going toward 
the taffrail, he proceeded to open the- parcel and place on 
the deck a series of documents, partly written, partly printed, 
and apparently largely consisting of figures. As they lay 
there, he gazed at them for a moment, but it was clear that 
his position was not a pleasant one. He changed from the 
taffrail to a camp stool ; and again from the camp stool to a 
seat on the deck ; but it was obvious that he could not quite 
suit himself as to a proper position. At last he said he 
would go below, so as to have his papers properly spread 
out before him. 

“ And yet,’' he said, pensively, “ isn’t it a shame to go be- 
low in this weather ? You know we shall have plenty of wet 
days in which we shall be unable to do anything but work 
indoors, eh, Weyland 1 ” 

“ Of course,” said the Conservative member, “ when you 
are on a cruise in Scotland, you are always safe in laying up 
something for a rainy day.” 

Mr. Brown packed up his papers, and took them below. 
When he came on deck again, he was quite cheerful, and even 
humorous, and proposed that he should take the helm, to 
which Mr. Weyland consented, on condition that his friend 
should give the necessary directions in case the wind should 
come round on the starboard quarter. 

“ I know what to do in a cutter,” said Mr. Brown, 
timidly. 

“ Oh,” said Weyland, “ you know how to slack off the 
boom guy, haul in the mainsheet till you get the boom amid- 
ship, port the helm, jibe the mainsail ; then slack off the 
mainsheet again, you know, hook the guy on the port side, 
haul taut the starboard runner and tackle, and overhaul the 
port one ; same with the topping lift, hoist the head sails, 
and shift the sheets over.” 

“ After that,” said Brown, “ I suppose I’d better throw 
myself over, too, and complete the thing. If you were to 
treat a yacht like that, there would not be a tooth left in its 
head. However, you may keep the tiller, Weyland. It is the 
only work I ever see you at, and when the rainy weather 
comes, goodness only knows how you will pass the time, I 


IN THE HIGHLANDS. 


31 


know I shall never come away again without having some- 
thing to do during those odd moments of leisure that you 
meet in travelling. It’s a sort of mainstay, you know — ogives 
you a sense that you are not altogether idling when you have 
this work to fall back on. And especially when the work is 
of a character to remedy a great injustice, and give pleasure 
to a considerable number of your fellow beings — then, I say, 
you feel proud that you cannot be taunted with the mere 
self-seeking indolence of the hoiiday-maker.” 

By this time we had run northward by Luing, and Eas- 
dale, and Loch Feochan, and were standing in toward the 
Sound of Kerrara. Twilight was now falling over the islands 
and the sea, and only a faint show of red in the west showed 
where the sunset had been. When at last we cast anchor 
in Oban Bay, pale points of stars were beginning to glimmer 
on the water, and over there at Kerrara the white ridge of 
the moon was rising behind the black outline of the island, 
promising us a lovely night. 


CHAPTER VII. 

THE OPPORTUNITY AT LAST. ^ 

Oban, as you see it in the dawn of a summer’s morning, is 
fair and beautiful to look upon. In the daytime, you find 
that the capital of the western Highlands, which enthusiastic 
Scotchmen prefer to Biarritz, or Nice, or Naples, or any other 
place they do not happen to have seen, consists mainly of a 
row of dirty-white houses, stretching round a semicircular 
bay, the waters of which have, at certain states of the tide, 
an ancient and fish-like smell. There are no promenades, 
avenues, or pleasure-grounds ; the chief thoroughfare being 
the street along the quay, which fronts the shops. Toward 
the west, however, there are a few villas picturesquely perched 
up on the side of the hills that lie behind the town, and down 
near the shore there are one or two big hotels. All these 
things, including the squalor about the quay, are transfigured 
by the early sunlight ; and more especially if you are well 
out in the bay, and looking shoreward, Oban, when seen 
through the golden mist that floods down upon it from over 


32 


MR. PISISTRATUS BROWNy M. F., 


the eastern hills, has something fine and picturesque about 
its position and almost rises to its reputation. For there are 
green hills and gray crags around it which cannot be made 
commonplace, and you have only to turn from the plain 
houses and the shops to find yourself looking out on the per- 
petual wonder and loveliness of the blue sea, with the rounded 
mountains of Mull showing a hundred tints of purple and 
rose-color, and the gloomy hills of Morven waking up from 
the mists of the night to catch the first yellow glimmering of 
the sun. 

We found the Member for Bourton-in-the Marsh pensively 
kicking his heels over the gunwale of the Kittiwake. He had 
been awakened by the throbbing of the paddles of some great 
steamer, and had gone on deck to have a look at the new dis- 
trict into which he had ventured. He had been up for nearly 
two hours, had done nothing, and was a litttle peevish. He said 
some disrespectful things about Oban, which need not be re- 
peated. 

After breakfast, however, the amiable nature of his dis- 
position asserted itself : and as he leaned his back against the 
ratlines, and calmly smoked a cigar, he began to approve of 
Oban, of the Highlands, of yachting. He even hinted to the 
Member for Slow that Conservatism had its good points. He 
told the Glasgow bailie that the Scotch should be proud of 
their mountains and lochs. He hoped the Queen would 
soon get better. Then he proposed we should all go ashore, 
have a look at Oban, and walk across to Dunstaffnage 
Castle. 

Mr. Brown himself steered the gig into the quay, and 
managed it so cleverly as to receive a compliment, which he 
accepted gravely. Indeed, when he had got on shore to in- 
spect Oban, the practiced eye might have detected the least 
thing of a lurch in Mr. Brown’s walk, as of a man who had 
been accustomed to pace the quarter-deck. His dress, too, 
was rather nautical in appearance, so that at this moment he 
might have had his portrait taken as Admiral Brown, M. P. 
But he never ventured to say anything about shivering his 
timbers ; and as for a hornpipe, Mr. Brown’s waist had dis- 
appeared about the time that the great Reform Bill was 
passed. 

The few miles of road from Oban to Dunstaffnage led us 
through the most charming variety of scenery, beginning 
with a stretch of deep umbrageous wood, and thereafter 
taking us out into the daylight, and skirting the base of a 


IN THE HIGHLANDS. 


33 

series of wild and heathery hills. Something less than half 
way we reached a small freshwater lake, girt round about by 
sedges in which Mr. Brown declared there must be moor- 
hens. Occasionally we met a group of the small and pictu- 
resque Highland cattle which are a godsend to the landscape 
painter ; and so thoroughly had those small-headed, rough- 
coated, and sharp-horned brutes acquired the independent 
notions of their native land, that our companion the Glasgow 
bailie regarded with some trepidation their attitude, as they 
stood in the middle of the road and firmly looked at the 
strangers. Mr. Brown, however, was brave with the courage 
of ignorance. He had never been chased down a hillside by 
a “ stot,” or landed in a burn by the horns of a wicked lit- 
tle bull ; and so, with the utmost confidence he charged 
and routed the various phalanxes that opposed our progress 
and scarcely walked any more proudly because of his 
victory. 

In due time we came once more in sight of the sea, lying 
dark and blue along the lonely shores of Ossian’s Morven. 
Nearer at hand lay the green island of Lismore, with here 
and there a nameless lump of dark rock jutting out of the 
rippling water, around it. But when we got further toward 
the west, so that we saw the magnificent line of jagged 
mountains stretching all along the northern horizon, the en- 
thusiasm of Mr. Brown could not be expresssd in words. 
There were great white clouds floating rapidly over so that 
every moment the colors of the mountains were changing, 
and while the sunlight fell here and there among the peaks 
that rise in Morven and Appin, far beyond Lock Etive and 
up by Glencoe, some mighty mass of rock would grow dark, 
and near, as if cowering under a thunder-cloud. Here and 
there, too, we could see some of those black clouds break 
into a gray fleece of rain and quietly erase a mountain from 
the picture ; and then, again, its green sides would come 
glimmering through the wet, and a faint rainbow would ap- 
pear to touch the thin line of lake at the mountain’s foot. 

At length we got down to the sea, and to the rocky 
headland on which stand the massive ruins of Dunstaffnage. 

“ To tell you the truth,” said Mr. Brown, “ I do not 
care for ruins — I do not care for anything — when I can turn 
to this wonderful picture of the sea and mountains and lochs. 
The more I look at it, the more I am inclined to register an 
awful vow never to return to a town again. Why should a 
man devote himself to the public good until he is just ready 


34 


MR, PISISTRA TUS .^ROWN, M. 


to drop into his coffin ? I have done my share. I have a 
great mind never to return to London, but to have a small 
house built on this very promontory, and live here within the 
sound of the sea — until — until the time comes when I shall 
hear no more sounds. Besides what use am I — except to 
make one of a majority that is already so big as to make the 
Ministry a deal too cheeky ? If we had a struggling Gov- 
ernment, do you think we should have had all that hocus po- 
cus about Epping Forest ? Well, after all, you want inde- 
pendent members to look after those things. Perhaps I 
should better fulfil my duty by going back into the old track. 
I venture to hope that some of my countrymen owe some- 
thing to my efforts in Parliament ; and I know that in this 
matter of the Customs Clerks’ grievances, I am working to- 
ward a most praiseworthy end. Forgive my talking about 
myself, Weyland, but I have often remarked that the sight 
of mountains and the sea — of the great powers of nature — 
forces on a man questions about his own position, and causes 
him to review his relations with the world. Thank you ; the 
last was as good a cigar as a man ever smoked.” 

My friend was rather reserved and thoughtful during the 
walk to Oban, but he brightened up after dinner, and pro- 
posed we should go on shore to play a game of billiards at 
the hotel. As the gig slowly cleft its way through the dark 
water, the blades of the oar shedding gleams of phosphoric 
fire on each side, Mr. Brown remarked that both moon and 
stars were invisible. Indeed, before we reached the shore, a 
few drops of rain were falling. 

“ Is not that most fortunate ? ” said he. “Just as I was 
beginning to accuse myself of idleness, there comes the wet 
day which will enable me to get some work done. To-mor- 
row — yes, to-morrow — I will redeem the promises I have 
made to myself — and so, Weyland, let us have a merry 
evening; and you will give me 30 in 100, and I will play you 
for a ^vereign.” 


IM THk highlamds. 


35 


CHAPTER VIII. 

FROM OBAN TO JURA. 

Where was the rain ? Were we really in the Highlands ? 
When breakfast called us into the saloon the sun was shining 
down through the painted colors of the skylight, and throw- 
ing streaks of crimson and blue on the decorated sides of 
the cabin. Mr. Brown, M. P., professed himself profoundly 
disgusted. He regarded the sunlight as if it were his mortal 
enemy. 

“ Another day handed over to idleness,” he remarked, 
with a beautiful affectation of anger ; “ for you know, 
Weyland, a man cannot be expected to stop downstairs in 
this hot weather, and study a batch of figures. You can’t do 
it. I say you can’t do it. I am sure that matter of the 
salaries of those unfortunate Customs Clerks wants serious 
inquiry ; but how can you go into it on a broiling day, and in 
the limited space which even your handsome saloon 
affords ? ” 

Indeed, when we got up on deck, the rain, for which Mr. 
Brown declared himself so anxious, seemed further off than 
ever. The Kittiwake was already speeding away southward 
from Oban, her tall white sails filled with a brisk westerly 
breeze, and overhead there was a dark blue sky that had its 
light reflected in the ruffled plain that lay all around us. 
Out before us — for we went round Kerrara before going south 
— the lofty mountains of Mull were gradually becoming more 
distinct, until we could see the glimmering of streams in the 
deep gullies, and here and there a small white cottage along 
the lonely shores. In our wake stretched the far-reaching 
arms of Loch Etive and Loch Linnhe — long blue creeks 
lying underneath the wild mountains of Morven and Appin, 
and embracing the lower and greener hills of Lismore. It 
was a fair and beautiful picture — the brisk blue ripple of the 
water, the innumerable islands, the flocks of sea-birds float- 
ing on the waves or dashing this way and that against the 
westerly winds, while up in the north stood the calm and 
silent rampart of the mountains, touched here and there with 
the shadow of a cloud. 


36 


MR. PISISTRATC/S BROWN, M. A 


“ There is no sign of rain,” remarked Mr. Brown, scan- 
ning the horizon with a wistful glance. “ That haze you see 
along the mountains is never accompanied by rain, and yet 
there was rain last night.” 

He turned with a well-simulated sigh to light a cigar, and 
then he caught sight of a bundle of newspapers that had 
been brought on board that morning. Lazily he opened 
them ; but suddenl)' he announced to us, in a voice of aston- 
ishment, that the Lords had thrown out the Ballot Bill. 
Weyland, sitting by the tiller, looked up. I became appre- 
hensive of a skirmish between the Member for Slow and the 
Member for Bourton-in-the-Marsh. 

“ Poor old things,” said Mr. Brown, with an accent of 
contemptuous tenderness. “ I don’t wonder at their being 
in a hurry for their holidays ; and nobody ought to grudge 
them the sense of importance with which they will now go 
down into the country. It will be something to keep up the 
spirits of the amiable old gentlemen as they drive about the 
country roads in closed-up old-fashioned yellow chariots, and 
answer with a paralytic nod the salutations of the farmers. 
I hope the old gentlemen will keep up their system and 
get strong. They will want some strength of digestion next 
Session for the operation known as eating the leek.” 

The wrath on Weyland’s face was terrible to look upon, 
and he was fairly speechless with rage. The Glasgow bailie 
turned from the one to the other with uneasy glances, prob- 
ably fearing that Mr. Weyland might in the recklessness of 
passion shoot the Kittiwake high and dry on the nearest is- 
land. 

“ Perhaps,” said the Member for Slow, with a wild and 
ghastly effort to accomplish a smile, “ you will introduce a 
Bill for the removal of the House of Lords to Hanwell. Or 
perhaps you’d have them sent to a pauper school to teach 
them how to write their own names.” 

“ Most of ’em can’t,” said Mr. Brown coolly. He was try- 
ing to make out whether a certain big bird, down near Ar- 
dincaple Point, was a gull or a solan. 

“ I am not surprised at anything that is done by the Liberal 
party,” said Mr. Weyland hotly, “ when I hear the perfectly 
reckless and inconsiderate way in which individual members 
talk of the most vital institutions of the country — as if they 
were mere footballs to be kicked about for the convenience 
of a Premier or the amusement of a session. I do not know 
whether it is thoughtlessness or ignorance ” 


tN Tim HTCHLANDS. 


37 


It’s a solan ! ” exclaimed Mr. Brown. 

The bird had gone down with a sudden rush, and we could 
see the water leap thirty feet into the air after the fierce 
plunge. Then the snow-white long-wdnged solan rose once 
more, made one or two slow circles, and finally came sailing 
up toward the north. Mr. Brown darted down to the cabin ; 
and presently reappeared with a double-barrelled breechloader 
in his hand. 

“ If I could only get one of those magnificent birds,” said 
he, “ I’d give up the notion of making a collection. When 
you have got the King, you do not care about the Court.” 

And, in truth, this particular solan, forgetting the shyness 
of its tribe, seemed determined to give Mr. Brown a chance. 
It flew at great height, but it came slowly up in a direct line 
across the boat. — Mr. Brown’s eyes were fixed with a painful 
anxiety on the slow pinions of the gannet as it came nearer 
and nearer ; and he was heard to whisper an agitated 
question as to whether a swan-shot cartridge would reach that 
height. None of us dared answer him ; even Weyland had 
forgotten the cruelties heaped on the House of Lords in the 
excitement caused by the approach of the solan. Mr. Brown 
stealthily put up the gun to his shoulder — ^just as if he were 
some fat old sportsman in the Black Forest nervously expect- 
ing the appearance of a roebuck. So dazzling was the clear 
blue that it was difficult to follow the slow flight of the large 
bird ; and it seemed to be overhead while yet Mr. Brown 
would not fire. Mr. Weyland began to be agitated about 
the safety of the rigging, and would probably have interposed 
but that the startling bang of Mr. Brown’s right barrel told 
us that the great event was decided one way or the other. 

“I have shot him — I have killed him — I have smashed him 
up ! ” shouted the Member for Bourton-in-the-Marsh, with 
the most unstatesmanlike and unsportsmanlike eagerness. 
Certainly the bird had disappeared to leeward. Mr. Brown 
sprung behind the mainsail, and lo ! some hundred yards 
ahead, an immense white thing floated on the water. He 
shouted that the bird was dead. He implored Weyland to get 
a small boat ready. He gave various orders, couched in the 
language of Cockaigne, to the astonished sailors, who had 
been regarding the falling solan with little interest. And 
then, in the middle of all this turmoil, a loud laugh was heard 
from Weyland, and the solan was seen to flutter up from the 
water and continue its flight. 

Despair fell over the countenance of my amiable friend. 


MR. PIStSTRATUS BROWN, M. S., 


38 

He did not utter a word ; but he was calmly relinquishing him- 
self to his fate, when the solan was seen to “ tower” for a 
few yards. Mr. Brown apparently imagined that this natural 
phenomenon was but the beginning of a long excursion on 
the part of the solan, and was, indeed, turning away in dis- 
gust, when the bird fell straight into the water, and floated on 
the waves a lifeless and dishevelled mass of feathers. Some 
few minutes afterward, Mr. Brown was regarding with inex- 
pressible delight and wonder the monster of the deep which 
lay before him., with its snow-white wings extended on the 
deck. He called our attention to the beautiful colors on its 
long and powerful beak, to the shading on its legs, to 
the immense breadth of its wings. One of the men 
further gratified Mr. Brown by informing him that the wings 
of the solan were sometimes found to be seven feet across, 
and that no other bird so much resembled an albatross. The 
hero of the hour regarded his prize with a new interest — there 
were wild and poetical ideas and association about this magnifi 
cent creature that he had brought down. It was with some hesi- 
tation that it allowed it to be taken below, Weyland giving 
orders that it should be packed and forwarded to Glasgow 
by the first steamer they could intercept. Mr. Brown hoped 
they were able to stuff large birds in Glasgow. 

The slaughter of the solan was a fortunate thing for us 
all. Mr. Brown’s geniality, in consequence of his exploit, 
was excessive ; nothing could exceed his politeness, his good- 
nature, and his efforts to amuse us. He doubtless felt that 
we ought all to share in his joy, and he even went the length 
of tendering a formal apology to Mr. Weyland for his re- 
marks about the House of Lords, which the Member for Slow 
accepted with one of his prodigious laughs. And so, in this 
delightful state of affairs, the long summer day passed 
pleasantly, and we gradually drew down toward Jura, keep- 
ing well outside the island of Garveloch and Scarba. Here 
we experienced a rather heavy sea ; but the Kittiwake con- 
ducted herself with propriety, and Mr. Brown, though he was 
occasionally silent and solemn, never had to go below. 

Out to windward lay the desolate-looking islands of Col- 
onsay and Oronsay, amid the ceaseless wash of the Atlantic. 
Why that lengthy ballad of Dr. Leyden should have taken 
such hold of my friend from the South it was impossible to 
say ; but he continued to gaze on the bleak and distant 
shores of Colonsay all the time we were creeping along the 
coast of Jura. And when at last we anchored in Loch Tar- 


IN THE HIGHLANDS. 


39 

bert, and found almost over our heads the immense and 
gloomy peaks that are known to fishermen as the Paps of 
Jura, we could see that the ‘‘ Song of Colonsay” was still 
sounding its melancholy refrain in the ears of Mr. Brown. 
But whenever he grew too sad, the least mention of the so- 
lan woke him up into life again ; and all that evening, as we 
sat on deck, and smoked, and watched the stars glimmering 
on the sea around us, that was black as night with the shad- 
ows of the mountains, his talk was of the wonders of the 
deep that are known to sailors, and of the rough sports and 
Enjoyments that might be got at if one were only young 
enough to become a middy. 


CHAPTER IX. 

DEER-STALKING IN JURA. 

A COLD gray mist was rising off the bay, and masses of 
watery-looking clouds were slowly creeping up the dark 
sides of the mountains, when Mr. Brown, M. P., stepped on 
deck and took his accustomed glance round, apparently to 
see if there was a chance of rain. The prospect was gloomy. 
The waters of the sound were rough and gray ; Islay was 
half hidden in mist ; and overhead there was a dense pall 
of vapor through which the sun could not pierce. De- 
spite the fact that the Member for Bourton-in-the-Marsh had 
been longing for rain, in order that he might devote himself to 
the question of the Customs Clerks’ grievances, he did not 
seemed pleased to find it so near. He looked at the clean 
deck and spars of the Kittiwake, and complained that a 
yacht looked clammy on a cold morning. With a morose 
sort of poetry he compared her to a sea-bird floating on the 
water in time of rain, with her wings folded closely up, and 
her appearance dejected. He remarked that there was 
much gloomy grandeur about the Jura mountains ; but that, 
once you had seen them, there was no use in remaining un- 
der their cold and oppressive shadows. He observed that 
the sound of Jura was a melancholy piece of water ; and was 
of opinion that the Hebrides generally seemed a sterile re- 


40 


MR. PISISTRATUS BROWN, M.P., 


gion, visited by fogs and rains and the cold wash of the 
sea. 

But a great surprise was in store for my friend. While 
we were regarding the desolate prospect around us, the gig 
of the Kittiwake was observed to be coming out from the 
shore ; and in the stem sat Mr. Weyland himself. There 
was a bluff satisfaction in his face. He sprung up the gang- 
way quite lightly, and slapped Mr. Brown on the back. 

“ You’ve heard me speak of Maclean of Hulishtaveg } ” 
he said, 

“ No, I have not,” replied Mr. Brown, coldly, for he did 
not like to be slapped on the back. 

“ No matter, he sends you his compliments in very good 
English, and offers you as much red deer shooting as you 
like, and says you will find men, dogs, and guns awaiting us 
up at Glen-cona an hour hence.” 

“ Red deer ! ” exclaimed Mr. Brown, with an awestruck 
look. 

And with that he darted down the companion to see if 
breakfast was laid. He implored us to make haste. He 
scalded his mouth with coffee. He said it would have 
been hard if we had gone away from the Hebrides 
without slaying a red deer, and talked with such an- 
imation and excitement about that noble sport, and about 
the grandeur of this lonely island of Jura, and of the more 
than royal hospitality exercised by the brave and courteous 
Highland gentlemen who live in those wilds, that we half 
expected to see tears of admiration start into his eyes. Wey- 
land improved the time by detailing the qualifications of the 
deer-stalker — how that he must have the eye of a hawk, the 
pertinacity of a sleuth-hound, the footing of a chamois — how 
that he must be brave and patient, nimble and agile, and 
prepared to suffer any privation. We observed that as 
Mr. Brown rose to go upon deck before us, he buttoned his 
coat tightly round what was once a waist, erected his head, 
and assumed a look of bright and sharp activity. His efforts 
to improve his figure, however, were a failure. 

It took us nearly an hour to reach the little white cottage 
which had been pointed out to 'us as Glen-cona — a solitary 
building, perched upon an open space of morass which led 
the way into a deep gap between the hills. Not only were 
the gillies and dogs in readiness, but the Maclean himself — a 
tall and spare-built man, with long white hair and flowing beard 
—had come up from his house to receive his friend’s friends, 


W THE HIGHLANDS. 


4t 

This he did with a simple and yet stately courtesy which 
greatly impressed Mr. Brown, who subsequently informed us 
that he could not help thinking the old man with the white 
beard, and the lofty manners and the peculiar inflection of 
English, was a descendant of Ossian. Hulishtaveg was not 
in the kilt, but his gillies were — the big, weather-tanned men 
who stood silently by, except when they rebuked one of the 
shaggy and splendid-looking deerhounds, and who received 
from their master a glass of whisky, which was no great 
length of time in reaching its destination. When the Mac- 
lean had given the men certain instructions in what was 
apparently graphic and forcible Gaelic, he bade us farewell 
in a few words of very fair English, and took his departure. 

Weyland now impressed on the head-keeper that every- 
thing was to be done to give Mr. Brown a shot — that he 
was to be considered the chief of the party. When the 
swarthy and bearded Highlander was at length made to un- 
derstand this, he simply laid hold of Mr. Brown and treated 
him as if he were a child, with a quiet, good-natured patron- 
age that my friend knew not how to resent. In the first 
place, he insisted on the Member for Bourton-in-the-Marsh 
leaving behind him a white coat which he wore, and putting 
on instead a brown jacket which one of the gillies was 
ordered to strip off his shoulders. Mr. Brown objected, but 
his protestations were of no avail. 

“ Cash pless me ! ” said the keeper, “ it will pe for no 
use if you go up sa hill wi' a big, white, starin’ coat on, that will 
pe seen through the length and sa preadth o’ Jura. Wass 
you neffer after sa deer afore ? ” 

Mr. Brown had to confess that he had never before 
hunted the wild deer or followed the roe ; whereupon the 
big keeper helped my friend into the gillie’s jacket, and 
slung a telescope over his shoulder, and bound a cartridge- 
belt round his waist ; but the rifle which was apportioned to 
him was handed over to one of the men. Then we set out. 
Mr. Brown grinned a ghastly grin over his costume and ac- 
coutrements ; but he was evidently feeling a little nervous. 

For the first part of our journey our way lay along a 
marshy hollow that formed the base of two hills. Not a word 
was spoken ; there was nothing to break the profound still- 
ness of this solitary glen ; we could not even hear a stream 
trickling down the mountain-side. Then after a long and 
patient tramp, we began to ascend the hill — in some places 
so steep that our hands were about as serviceable as our 


Mr, PlSiSTRATUS BROWN, M.P,^ 


42 

feet. What with hopping over bits of bog, and climbing oyer 
rocks, and working through heather, Mr. Brown was looking 
rather exhausted as we neared the summit ; but a halt was 
called, and the plan of operations stealthily formed. 

The Member for Bourton-in-the-Marsh now became the 
hero of the hour, for it was to him that the keeper chiefly 
addressed, in cautious whispers, certain directions as to what 
should be done. These two, indeed, now left the party, and 
slowly and silently climbed up to a ridge of rock that no 
doubt commanded the valley beyond. Both were prone on 
the heather and apparently motionless, when the keeper, 
having slowly swept the space before him with his glass, 
touched Mr. Brown’s arm and indicated that he should look 
in a particular direction. What was the meaning of that next 
abrupt movement ? Mr. Brown had hastily dropped his 
telescope, and took up his rifle ; but the keeper instantly 
seized the latter, took it off the rock, and turned to his com- 
panion with a look of anger and surprise. 

“ Cash pless me ! ” we heard him exclaim in an excited 
whisper. “ Wass you going to fire t Sa stag iss a mile away 
and more, and a’ sa hinds are watchin’ up by sa burn. You 
will have to go down sa hill again, and along sa glen, and 
up by sa burn, — it will be three miles you will go afore you 
wass to get near him.” 

But nothing would daunt Mr. Brown, now that he had seen 
his quarry. In mingled trepidation and excitement he came 
back and told us upon what an awful venture he was setting 
out. We agreed to watch his progress from the ambush on 
the top of the hill ; while he and the keeper and a gillie with 
the dogs went off on their circuit so as to get at the stag. 
He left us his telescope, and took with him our blessing. 

More than an hour elapsed before we caught sight of 
them, and then we made out three tiny figures stealing along 
the opposite hillside. A sharp and deep little glen lay be- 
tween them and the open space where the stag was quietly 
browsing ; and it was evident that the success of the expedi- 
tion depended on Mr. Brown being able to get into this glen 
and up again without attracting the attention of his prey. A 
grave and watchful gillie who followed every movement witl^ 
intensest interest expressed his opinion that the “ shentl^ 
man tid not know much of sa shooting and would pe sure to 
make a noise among sa rocks.” At length we saw Mr.- Brown, 
creeping on hands and knees, gain the edge of the ravine 
and disappear. The stag still stood about thirty yards from 


IN THE HIGHLANDS. 


43 

the other side of the glen, in an open space where there 
were some gray rocks among the heather, while two or three 
hinds were on a grassy plateau above him, walking about and 
occasionally nibbling the herbage. Our excitement was now 
so great that no one spoke. A dead silence prevailed. Sud- 
denly there was a light pattering heard near us, and the next 
moment a hind came cantering down in front of us. The 
moment she saw us a sort of paralysis seemed to overtake 
her. She halted for one second, all her limbs quivering; 
then she was off with the speed of lightning, followed by two 
hinds and two stags that had been quietly coming on in 
Indian file. All this had occurred in an instant ; and in the 
same instant Weyland had started up, cocked his rifle, and 
fired. The gillie fired. The second stag, at which the gillie 
had shot, gave one spring into the air and tumbled forward 
lifeless ; but the first stag, Weyland’s quarry, after having 
gone down on its foreknees, struggled up again, and was 
seen to make straight down the hill. “ Oh, sa tawgs, sa 
tawgs, what for had we no sa tawgs wi us, tamernation and 
diabhol ! ” shouted the gillie, and then he dashed down the 
hillside after the wounded deer, Weyland himself, long- 
legged and active, vainly endeavoring to keep up with his 
extraordinary speed. When they had disappeared, I turned 
to the other valley, where also the crack of a rifle had been 
heard. What was that distant and corpulent little figure 
doing, but waving a handkerchief and dancing a wild fan- 
dango of delight, while the gillie was hauling off the hounds 
that were apparently bent on attacking some brown object 
lying there ? Apparently the man had divined that the dogs 
might be wanted elsewhere, for presently we saw him disap- 
pear with them round the head of the glen, while Mr. 
Brown, still waving a handkerchief, descended to the burn, 
crossed over and slowly began to ascend the hill. Long be- 
fore he had reached the top he had shouted the joyous news, 
and when he arrived, speechless, smothered in perspiration, 
covered with brown moss-water, and dishevelled beyond ex- 
pression, he reserved his last energies for a wild performance 
of a Highland reel, and then sunk, glorious and happy, on 
the heather. 

“ Killed him — killed him — killed him 1 ” he cried, “ dead 
as a stone — big as a house — want two ponies to fetch him 
home — ril have him stuffed if I pay a thousand pounds 
for it ! ” 

“ With a gold medal slung round his neck — by 


44 


MR. PISISTRATUS BROWA\ M.P., 


Pis is/ flatus Brown, Esq., M. P., in the mountains of Jura, 
August, 1871. 

Mr. Brown lay on the heather, took deep draughts of the 
clear and cool air, and rubbed his hands. Already he pict- 
ured to himself the noble animal standing in the hail of a 
certain house in Holland Park, the admiration and wonder of 
all visitors. He was too much excited, indeed, to give any 
account of how he had shot the deer, and that did not leak 
out until Weyland, the head-keeper, and the gillie with the 
dogs had all returned to us. They, too, were in an exultant 
mood. The hounds had hunted down the wounded stag 
until they had brought him to bay, and he was found facing 
them, when Weyland got up in time to give him another 
bullet. The gillie had brought down a very tolerable stag, 
but Weyland’s prey turned out to be a hart of magnificent 
proportions, with horns that the keeper described in techni- 
cal language which considerably puzzled the Member for 
Bourten-in-the-Marsh. When we came to ask what sort of 
horns he had secured, there came the ominous confession 
that the animal he had shot was not adorned in that way. 

“ It wass a hind,” said the keeper, with some contempt. 
“ Sa stag will pe neffer touched at all.” 

“But you can’t deny it’s a deer,” said Mr. Brown, almost 
fiercely, “ and if I didn’t get the stag, whose fault was it, 
Donald, or Duncan, or MacTavish or whatever is your name ? 
Answ'er me that ! The plain story, Weyland, is simply this — 
that your confounded shooting startled the stag just as I was 
getting up to the edge. The beggar was off before you could 
have winked — like a flash of powder — and I saw him join the 
whole herd of ’em, and off they went. What could I do ? 
By Jove, I banged into the lot of ’em, just as any man would, 
and you should have seen the cracker that deer went when I 
caught him ” 

“ Her,” said Weyland, cruelly. 

“ Her or him, what’s the difference ? You may talk of 
spires and harts, and stags and calves ; but all I know is I’ve 
shot a deer, and as that sort of thing doesn’t fall in my way 
every day, I may confess that I’m uncommonly proud of it, 
and, with the permission of Allasterbeg, or whatever the mis- 
chief you call him, I propose to give these Macdonalds, and 
Macdougals, and MacTavishes here a sovereign apiece.” 

Mr. Brown now became anxious that the two ponies which 
had been sent for should arrive, that we might go down the 
glen in triumph ; but as the day had worn on with our re- 


IN THE HIGHLANDS. 


45 

peated delays, it was resolved to go down quietly to Mr. Mac- 
lean’s house, and carry him on board the Kittiwake. Hul- 
ishtaveg was well pleased with the story of the day’s perfor- 
mances, and remarked, on the good fortune which had at- 
tended what was, after all an experiment. 

“ Sa morn’s morning,” he said to Mr. Brown, “ you will 
pe early afoot, and teil sa fears but you will come home wis 
a fine good stag — as good as any one in Jura.” 

“ I will get up at three o’clock,” said Mr. Brown, eagerly ; 
“ and you know, Mr. Maclean, I am a stranger to this sort of 
thing, and if, after dinner, you could give me a hint or two, 
you know ” 

Hulishtaveg gave us after dinner something much bet- 
ter — a Gaelic song about a young person called Maggie, who 
was asked to marry a certain red-haired William ; and this he 
sung in a shrill, quavering voice that had some faint resem- 
blance to the reediness of the bagpipes. 


CHAPTER X. 

DEER-DRIVING IN JURA 

The cold light of the dawn was beginning to steal down ; 
into the glens, and there was a faint saffron color becoming 
visible in the sky, far over the tops of the mountains, when 
Mr. Brown, M. P., stood on the deck of the Kittiwake and 
saw the gig being lowered. Much of the enthusiasm of the 
previous evening had gone. The visions begotten of Hul- 
ishtaveg’s stories of deer-stalking, salmon-spearing, and otto- 
hunting were now cold, and gray, and faint in the clear light 
of the early morning ; and Mr. Brown was no longer ready to 
scoff at late sleepers, and to expatiate on the delight of get- 
ting out of bed while the mists were still in the valleys and 
tiie darkness not yet lifted off the far and murmuring plain 
of the sea. He was very silent, and even gloomy ; and, as he 
sat in the stern of the pinnace, looked wistfully over to the 
distant shores of Islay, where man and nature seemed still 
buried in sleep. 

The Member for Slow, more accustomed to sportsman’s 
hours, was, on the contrary, full of facetious humors, and 


MR. PISISTRATUS BROWN, M.P., 


46 

strove to impress on Mr. Brown the awful nature of the ex- 
citement experienced by the man who finds deer running by 
in front of him, while he endeavors to single out the finest 
hart for his shot. He impressed on his friend, too, the 
gratitude he owed to Maclean of Hulishtaveg for getting up 
this drive in his honor— a form of deer-shooting rarely re- 
sorted to in Jura on account of the number of men required, 
and the tendency it has to make the deer wild and frighten 
them into neighboring territory. 

“ I daresay the old man started at two o’clock this morn- 
ing to arrange the drive,” remarked Mr. Weyland. “ And 
how would you like going up those wild glens in the middle 
of the night, with mist-clouds making the most familiar places 
dangerous to you.” 

“ I don’t see the necessity,” said the Member for Bour- 
ton-in-the-Marsh, morosely. “ You don’t expect to catch 
the deer asleep, do you ? And when you turn a man out at 
four o’clock and thrust him into the raw air of the morning, 
and make him swallow his breakfast before he has got any 
appetite, you upset him for the day, that’s all. You may call 
it sport ; I call it a mistake. I can get up as early as most 
men, when there’s any need ; but to be lugged out in the 
middle of the night merely because it’s considered fine, and 
sportsmanlike, and heroic, is a very different thing. I would 
very much rather have spent the next two hours in studying 
those grievances of the Customs clerks, and getting some 
useful work done. However, as that old idiot of a Highland- 
man, I dare say, has been rampaging about the whole coun- 
try-side since midnight, I suppose we needn’t waste any time 
in getting up to the starting-point.” 

It was most ungenerous of Mr. Brown to speak thus of his 
benefactor, who had not only arranged for him a day’s sport 
such as few men, be they Princes or Cabinet Ministers, are 
privileged to enjoy, but had also sent down a horse and two 
ponies for us. The Glasgow bailie was to have accompanied 
us ; but on rousing him about 3.30 he had uttered the most 
solemn vows that he would see us anywhere before he would 
budge an inch, so that we had to leave him to his inglorious 
rest. Accordingly the horse and the ponies carried us pict- 
uresquely, if not comfortably, up to Glen cona, where we 
found Hulishtaveg, one or two gillies, and the dogs. The 
rest of the gillies and hillmen had started long before for a 
district lying considerably beyond that in which we had been 
successful the day before. No time was to be lost. We got 


m THE HIGHLANDS, 


47 

into the saddle again — Mr. Maclean stoutly resisting Wey- 
land’s invitation to change places with him — and set off up 
the marshy glen that led into the mountains. 

In reply to Mr. Brown, Hulishtaveg informed us that we 
should have a terrible hot day ; but in the meantime the 
morning was clear and rather chilly. There was a rawness in 
the air around us, although far overhead we could see the 
sunlight strike the eastward-looking peaks of the mountains. 
But the jolting of the white pony which he bestrode had 
brought some warmth into Mr. Brown’s frame ; and a toler- 
ably lengthy pull at a whisky-flask, which had gone the 
round of the circle at Glen-cona, had brought more liveliness 
into his eye and talk. He began to feel more sure about 
being able to distinguish between a hind and a hart as the 
deer went by. He was quite certain he would not fire pre- 
maturely, and kill some harmless little animal running in 
front of its mother. He would take the greatest care not to 
frighten the hinds, so that they might turn and drive back 
the stags. Not for the world would he spoil sport. 

“ And, mirover,” said old Hulishtaveg, in his shrill and 
curious English, “ it may pe sa stags will come first. When 
sey get a great fright, sometimes sa stag will come afore sa 
hinds, espaycially if he sinks some danger is apout ; and all 
you will do, Mester Brown, iss no to put yoursel’ into a hurry, 
but tek your time — tek your time — and fire weel forrit.” 

“I’ll fire a yard ahead of ’em,” said Mr. Brown confiden- 
tially. “ Only give me a chance, and you’ll see.” 

“ A chance ? ” said the old Highlandman rather testily, 
“ no man will pe able to make a chance for you if sa deer 
will not be inclined to go your way ; but sa men knaw as 
much apoot sa deer as ony men in sa country ; and if you do 
not get a fine, big, braw pair o’ horns, it will pe your own 
fault, sir, neversaless and mirover.” 

When, at length, we had got within about a mile of oui 
points of ambush we dismounted, and the horse and ponies 
were left in charge of a small kilted youth. Then the gillies 
— all but he with the dogs — went off to join in that gentle 
pressing of the deer in a particular direction, which is a much 
more difiicult business than merely shooting at them when 
they come to you. The manner in which a few men, keep 
ign themselves, as a rule, invisible, will succeed in driving a 
herd of deer in a certain line is most marvellous, and is all 
the more so that the exploit is so seldom performed. The 
Maclean himself undertook to post the three strangers ; and 


MR. PISISTRATUS BROWN, M.P., 


48 

when this was done, and we had all received ample instruc- 
tions and injunctions, the old man departed, rifle in hand, to 
seek out a corner for himself. His whispered directions were 
the last sound we heard : then followed the strange and dead 
stillness that reigned over the broad valley, and we were left 
to peer anxiously from our hiding-places and await the com- 
ing of the deer. 

1 could see the Member for Bourton-in-the-Marsh. He 
was placed behind a rock in a little ravine, which had once 
been the bed of a stream. He had placed his cap by his side, 
so that he might peep over the boulders before him, and his 
shining bald head gleamed like a piece of smooth quartz down 
among the gray shadows of schist. He was furnished with a 
double-barrel breachloading rifle that Weyland had had made 
for him in Edinburgh ; and he had received the most impres- 
sive instructions not to fire within a mile of my station should 
the deer chance to escape him and come up that way. Wey- 
land, with a gillie and deerhounds, was posted so far as we 
could make out Hulishtavig's explanation, on the 
other side of the hill, in the direction the deer were likely to 
take if fired at by us. 

How long we waited it is impossible to say. It seemed 
ages, it was probably hours. At last there appeared by the 
side of a lump of rock high up on the opposite hill the flutter 
of a white handkerchief which was instantly withdrawn — the 
signal that the deer were in sight. Mr. Brown put the bar- 
rells of his gun carefully on the ledge before him. 

And then, in the deathlike silence, we saw the first of the 
deer appear. They were two full-grown hinds and a calf, 
that came lightly and gently c''^tf‘ring over the moss and 
heather, stopping now and aga.»i, . ' back, with their 

ears erect, and their long lithe throats arching up to their 
small heads. Presently came three more hinds, in single file 
and then two stags, a small one and a large one, the latter 
with splendid horns. It was an exciting moment ; for it was 
impossible to say which way they might go. They had evi- 
dently been alarmed by the gillies somewhere ; but to so 
slight a degree that they trotted gently, and stopped every 
two or three seconds to look back, which they did with their 
nostrils high in the air, and their ears thrown forward. A 
more picturesque group was never painted by Landseer ; but 
what we chiefly thought of, doubtless, was their distance 
from us. 

As we watched them, in this anxious fashion, one of the 


IN THE HIGHLANDS. 


49 

hinds trotted of to the right and the others at some distance 
followed her, one by one. They were now apparently going 
straight over the opposite hill, and how was one gillie to in- 
tercept them ? Suddenly we saw him start from his hiding- 
place, throw his Jacket into the air and halloo at the pitch of 
his voice. The whole herd now sprang down the hill, and 
headed down the glen. Here another gillie started from 
some unknown ambush ; and the stags, now in front, turned 
once more and made straight for our place of hiding. Now 
or never was our chance. On they came with those light 
elastic strides that seemed to skip the ground, the smaller 
stag now leading. How different was this terrible pace 
from the slow rambling of the pasteboard stag at Wimbledon, 
which Mr. Brown had been declaring the night before, he 
could hit in the heart five times out of six ! But if the pace 
was trying, the line they took was advantageous ; and in far 
less time than it has taken to write these words they were 
upon us. Bang ! went Mr Brown’s first barrel. T^he smaller 
stag cleared the rocky channel at one leap ; and was making 
down into the hollOw of the glen, when a shot — from a 
quarter which modesty di^;ects shall be nameless — sent him 
headfirst into a patch of long green grass that surrounded a 
mountain spring. Almost simultaneously with that shot, Mr. 
Brown fired his second barrel, and lo ! the larger stag did ac- 
tually stumble forward and then fall heavily on his side. Mr. 
Brown uttered a startling yeil, and dashed down the rocky 
chasm, over boulders and stones. The stag rose on his fore- 
feet, and again it fell. In vain I shouted to my frantic 
friend not to go near the deer^; for the next moment I saw 
him aim a blow at ' ' ’ * , his adversary with the butt of 
Weyland’s valuable fiHe, Again and again the excited sports- 
man flourished his weapon, and then he sat down on the 
slain deer’s neck, and took hold of its antlers, and waved the 
butt of the rifle over his head. 

“ Why,”said he, when I got up, “ did you ever see the like 
of that ? Two stags — one with each barrel ! ” 

I calmly regarded my friend. He blushed a little, and 
then said, uneasily, — 

“ Do you think you shot the first one ? ” 

“ Do you think you shot it ? ” I asked. 

He looked away for a second or two ; and then he said, 
reflectively, — 

“ Perhaps, after all, I may have been mistaken. At all 
events I can afford to give you that one. I have enough. I 


yl//?. PISISTRATUS BROWN, M.P., 


SO 

wouldn’t quarrel with any one about a wretched deer. The 
man who spoils a day’s sport by claiming what isn’t his own 
— bah! I have no patience with him. Well, what is the 
matter ? ” 

The last words were uttered rather angrily. The fact was 
that Mr. Brown had put out one of his legs over the fallen 
deer, but not so artistically as to conceal the fact that the stag 
had been shot in the hind legs — the ball going through both, 
and smashing them. j 

“ If you consider,” said he, “ the pace he was going at, the 
wonder is that any mortal man could have got near him. 
I’m not proud. I hit a deer where I can ; and I’m satisfied 
if I kill him. I suppose it isn’t every man who can say that 
out of three shots he killed two deer, eh ? ” 

Indeed, Mr. Brown, M.P., forgot this flaw in his happiness, 
amid the universal congratulations of his companions. He 
would not, he said, trouble Mr. Maclean’s gillies to go any 
further that day. He was satisfied. Sport, not indiscrimi- 
nate slaughter, was his object. And there and then he 
invited all the gillies to a supper at Glen-cona, and forthwith 
begged Weyland to lend him a dozen of champagne. Of 
that supper, which came off about eight o’clock, it is impos- 
sible to speak here. Certainly no more strange, and motley, 
and picturesque gathering was ever before summoned to drink 
dry sillery amid the dusky solitudes of Jura. 


CHAPTER XI. 

GROUSE-SHOOTING IN JURA. 

It is not every day that a Highland laird has the oppor- 
tunity of entertaining two members of our Imperial Legisla- 
ture ; and whether it was that circumstance, or merely the 
amiable temperament of Mr. Brown, M.P., that affected 
Hulishtaveg, certain it is that the chieftain was excessively 
courteous to us. Not content with allowing the strangers 
from the Kittiwake to slay his deer, he now proposed that the 
Member for Bourton-in-the-Marsh should undertake a day’s 
grouse-shooting. Mr. Brown regarded this invitation with a 
complacent serenity. It was a comoliment to his powers as 


IN THE HIGHLANDS, 


5 ^ 

a sportsman. It is true he spoke in rather a contemptuous 
tone about grouse. The man who was able to bring down a 
stag at full speed might be pardoned for considering the 
whole grouse family, even including the capercailze, as rather 
small game. But Mr. Brown was not proud. He thanked 
the Maclean with a gracious politeness, and said he would go 
on the next morning, if it did not rain. 

“ A trap o’ rain will not do much harm,” said the old 
Highlander, unnecessarily taking a look round the horizon, 
on which all the evidences of settled weather were apparent. 
“ You wass very fortunate, mirover, wis your two days at sa 
deer. You will not expect to have aye such goot weather 
among sa Jura hills.” 

“ But you don’t understand, Mr. Maclean.” said my friend, 
gravely. “ A Member of Parliament, whether he be in the 
Cabinet or a mere outsider, never wholly gets rid of his 
duties by leaving town. A portion of his leisure, at least, he 
owes to his countrymen. And I am now investigating a most 
important question, with a view to remedying a great griev- 
ance — that, namely, of the capricious and unsatisfactory 
manner in which salaries are awarded to her Majesty’s clerks 
of Customs in the East of London and elsewhere. Should a 
change in the weather occur I must devote myself to this 
matter, grouse or no grouse, red deer or no red deer.” 

“ Oh, ferry well, ferry well,” said old Hulishtaveg, “ no 
goot will come to sa man who neglects his pusiness for his 
amusements, mirover.” 

On this occasion there was no picturesque procession of 
ponies and gillies, for our beat began about half a mile from 
the bay in which the Kittiwake was moored. Most of this 
half mile lay round the shore ; and Mr. Brown — as he listened 
vaguely to Weyland’s comparison of the virtues of pointers 
and setters — let his eye rove over the blue expanse of sea that 
lay smooth and still around the coasts of Islay. The Sound, 
that is generally swept by currents of wind coming down the 
gorge between the Jura mountains and the Islay shore, was 
almost glass-like. There was scarcely a breath of wind, and 
it was apparent that we should have warm work of it on the 
moors. 

“ Why here is Mr. Maclean again,” said Mr. Brown, as we 
neared the trysting-place. “ The old man seems to think we 
could not start without his coming to see us off, and give us 
a glass of whisky. I wonder if he thinks a. Member of 
Parliament an extraordinary creature.” 


52 


MR. PISISTRATUS BROWN, M.P., 


I ventured to hint to Mr. Brown that Hulishtaveg’s cour- 
tesy took its rise in the immemorial traditions of his class, 
and was not dictated by a profound reverence for the British 
Parliament. Doubtless, however, the old man was not dis- 
pleased to see his name in the Edinburgh and Glasgow papers 
as the host of the representatives of two important English 
boroughs. 

Hulishtaveg wished us good luck, and then we set oif for 
the base of the nearest hill, accompanied by two gillies, a boy, 
two brace of setters, a pointer and a retriever. The head 
keeper explained to us that this pointer, which had been pre- 
sented to Hulishtaveg by an English gentleman, was a steady 
old dog that was likely to be of excellent service to the central 
gun, when the setters were ranging rather wildly. Mr. Brown 
remarked that he did not care with what sort of dog he shot. 
He was also indifferent as to whether he were placed on the 
right, or on the left, or in the middle. He put a couple of 
cartridges into the barrels of his breech-loader, flung the gun 
upon his shoulder with quite a jaunty air, and stalked for- 
ward erect and confident. 

Indeed, Mr. Brown lost none of this ease of manner when 
a brace of the setters were uncoupled and we began to move 
cautiously along a piece of swampy ground lying at the base 
of a slope of heather. 

“ Those setters have been badly trained,” he remarked, 
with a cool air. “ They are wild. They will put up the birds 
out of shot. I can foresee that they will. When once we 
reach the dryer ground, where the grouse are sure to 
be ” 

He never finished the sentence. Old Dan the pointer, 
who had given himself but one or two brief preliminary 
scampers, was suddenly seen to curb his pace ; and then, 
after carefully advancing a few yards, he became motionless. 
As we quickly and stealthily went up to him, he moved not 
a muscle of his rigid frame — his neck and head stretched 
forward, his tail stiff as a rod behind, his fore leg hanging 
motionless in the air. As we got near him, he began to draw 
on the birds ; and, knowing that grouse run swiftly when 
caught in grassy cover we were looking well forward, when a 
magnificent whirr almost underneath Dun’s nose was followed 
by a hurried bang from Mr. Brown’s gun. A heap of feathers 
tumbled on to the ground ; and my excitable friend — forget- 
ting the example he was showing to the dogs — rushed madly 
toward the spot, caught the bird, and flourished it in the air. 


IN THE HIGHLANDS. 


S3 


But there was one man more excited than Mr. Brown, and 
that was the keeper. In his first alarm and rage at seeing my 
companion put up his gun to shoot a black-cock, he had yelled 
out in Gaelic, and now, in the same language, he was expostu- 
lating with Mr. Brown on the appalling nature of his con- 
duct, while Weyland had positively to sit down on a tuft of 
heather to give vent to prodigious roars of laughter. Mr. 
Brown looked deeply hurt, 

“ What have I done ? ” he said. 

In the mildest manner Weyland pointed out that he had 
fired at a bird which, had it been a grouse, would have be- 
longed to me ; that he had killed a black-cock after being 
warned that the time for shooting that animal had not ar- 
rived ; and that he had acted in a manner sufficient to have 
demoralized the best setters or pointers ever bred and trained. 

“ But, at all events, I have killed the bird,” said Mr. 
Brown, gloomily. 

He moved forward with less gayety of demeanor now. 
The setters which, in spite of his example, had dropped very 
prettily when the birds rose, now recommenced their light 
and active labors, and the grave and more cautious Dan, 
keeping nearer at home, worked the ground between them in 
a most satisfactory manner. We were now getting up the 
hill toward a level plateau, and were near the brow of the 
ascent when we flushed our first covey. They rose to Mr. 
Brown’s side, perhaps at a distance of about twenty yards 
and after a start caused by the sudden noise, and a stumbling 
about the stock of the gun, as if it had caught in his waist- 
coat, we were surprised to see the long steel barrels pointing 
in the direction of the now disapearing grouse, and Mr. Brown 
pulling at the trigger, without a vestige of sound following. 
Then, with a fearful exclamation of anger, my companion 
took down the breech-loader and looked at it. He had for- 
gotten to put in a cartridge in place of the one fired at the 
black-cock — indeed, the hammer was still down on the bar- 
rel. Weyland did not laugh this time ; he was too much 
annoyed. Mr. Brown’s moroseness deepened, and we went 
on. 

One or two members of the covey had loitered behind in 
the heather on the brow of the hill. Of these a brace fell 
to Weyland’s gun, and one bird, getting up out of shot, made 
after its companions. There we resolved on following, but 
taking care to miss nothing on the way. 

It appeared that the covey had been well scattered, for we 


AfJ?. PISISTRATUS BROWN, M.P., 


54 

had just rounded one shoulder of the hill, when up got a 
fine bird from under a big mass of rock that jutted out from 
the hillside, This, also, was Mr. Brown’s bird but two barrels 
sent after him scarcely caused him to swerve from his 
course, and we could see the sunlight shimmering on his 
outstretched and tremulous wings as he sailed round the 
entrance into the next valley. Weyland said nothing. Mr. 
Brown was silent. But as we once more moved on, the 
Member for Bourton-in-the-Marsh, apparently grown reck- 
less, began to hum carelessly, “ A life on the Ocean 
Wave.” 

“I wish you’d stop that row, and give other people a 
chance, if you can’t shoot yourself,” said Weyland, half in 
joke and half in irritated earnest. 

“ At all events,” said Mr. Brown, stopping short and 
drawing himself up, “ at all events, I expected to go shoot- 
ing with gentlemen.” 

“ Gentlemen be hanged ! ” said the Member for Slow ; 
and, at the same moment one of the setters came to a point. 
The other setters creeping forward a little too zealously, the 
birds sprung up. Four of them fell ; the fifth went straight 
past Mr. Brown, at a distance of about thirty-five yards, and 
sailed across the valley to the opposite mountain. 

“ Why didn’t you fire ? ” asked Weyland of Mr. Brown 
when the retriever had brought back one of the birds that 
had only been winged. 

Mr. Brown did not answer. He glanced carelessly round, 
as if admiring the warm tints of the hills, and the effect of 
the sunlight on the rocks and heather. Then he said, with 
a slight air of contempt, — 

“ I do not see the attractions of a sport that is marked 
by indiscriminate slaughter, and by a good deal of ill-temper. 
I do not desire to be proficient in it. I can dispense with 
the fame of being an accomplished butcher of harmless 
birds. You may think it fine to kill grouse in that fashion ; 
but I would as soon shoot pigeons at Hurlingham.” 

“ Shoot at them, you mean,” said Mr. Weyland, cruelly ; 
and then the Member for Slow went over to his friend, and 
pacified him, and apologized to him, and got him into a good 
humor. This incident took up a little time ; but the fact 
was that the terrible heat which was now beating down made 
such stoppages far from ungrateful. Even Donald, the 
keeper, remarked with a sigh, as he mopped his face with 
his weatherbeaten bonnet, “ It iss a most terrible warm tay, 


m THE HIGHLANDS. 


55 

as ever wass seen.** The redintegratio amoris between the two 
faithful friends who had fallen out was marked by the passing 
round of a flask of Lagavulin, and again we urged on our 
wild career. 

Certainly, there was no lack of sport. The birds were 
plentiful, far from wild, and we were lucky enough to get the 
coveys well broken up, and odd birds scored down, before 
attacking new districts. But Mr. Brown never recovered 
from the demoralization of his first mistakes. After failing 
altogether to fire at one or two birds that offered him easy 
:shots, he was counselled to wake up his spirits by a dose of 
that mellow liquid which had its origin in the island lying 
over there in the blue sea. It is to be feared that the Mem- 
ber for Bourton-in-the-Marsh took the advice too much to 
heart, or it may have been that the Lagavulin had an unus- 
ual effect on a system weakened by the extreme heat, by dis- 
appointment, and despair. Mr. Brown, M. P., took two 
deep draughts from his own particular flask, and thereupon 
declared that the day was but young yet. He had made 
some blunders, doubtless ; but his hand was out. He said 
there was nothing more beautiful than to see a setter work the 
side of a hill in the stillness of the midday sun. 

Mr. Brown had just made this remark — in an unneces- 
sarily loud voice — when, some distance ahead, a large black- 
cock got up with a prodigious clatter, and betook himself to 
the heights above. Mr. Brown jumped, but did not put up 
his gun. “ Well done ! ” said Weyland, approvingly. Alas ! 
the very next moment there rose a gray hen, and Mr. Brown, 
being deceived by the color, fired hastily. What was our 
astonishment to see the bird — which was certainly fifty yards 
,off — drop like a stone ! When Mr. Brown was told what he 
:had done ; he took no more shame to himself. He snapped 
his fingers, and uttered a fiendish laugh. 

“ Black-cock, white-cock,” he said, gayly, “ red grouse or 
gray groose, ptarmigan, snipe, capercailzie, or stags a hun- 
dred feet high, I’ll kill ’em all — I’ll kill ’em all.” 

The Member for Slow regarded his friend with a stupefied 
air. 

“ Come along,” said Mr. Brown lightly. “ What’s the 
use of drawing fine distinctions? We’re outraging all hu- 
manitarian notions in making the killing of birds an amuse- 
ment, and we may as well go in for unbridled license. What 
can a few days matter to a black-cock ? Come along — let’s 
have plenty of shooting — at anything ! Wake ’em up, old 


^6 MR. PISISTRATUS BROIVN, M. S., 

MacPhairson or MacDuncan or whatever they call you. 
Ha!” 

And bang went Mr. Brown’s gun at a fine cock grouse 
which his loud talking had put up almost out of range. Yet 
again the reckless Member of Parliament brought down his 
quarry ; and again he uttered a wild laugh of triumph. 

“ You can’t deny that’s a grouse, can you ? ” he exclaimed, 
fiercely thrusting in another cartridge. “ Forward, you chief- 
tain of the clan, MacGillie Callum I I will slay every wild 
animal in the Island of Jura before I have done with you.” 

The success of Mr. Brown was truly surprising ; but it 
was not to be wondered at that no one else got a shot. His 
jubilant cries and his urging on of the dogs — in spite of the 
angry expostulations of Mr Weyland, and the plaintive re- 
monstrances of the keeper — put up the birds at extraordi- 
nary distances while his luck in firing recklessly at them was 
marvellous. The more disgusted his companions were, the 
more wildly Mr. Brown laughed, until we wondered what 
demon out of Der Freischutz had transformed the ordinarily 
quiet and amiable Member for Bourton-in-the-Marsh. At 
last he flung himself down on the heather, placed his gun 
beside him, and waved his cap over his head. 

“ How many have I killed, slain, mangled, and extir- 
pated ? A hundred brace, if I have touched a feather ! And 
you say I can’t shoot, you counter-jumpers, who can’t touch 
a bird unless you are near enough to put salt on his tail. I 
tell you what I’ll do with you, merely to give you a chance. 
I shall stop here and smoke a cigar for an hour or so, and 
you can come back this way. Donald, Dougal, Duncan, or 
Alexander MacTavish, you leave those hordes of slain here, 
and go on with the dogs.” 

When we returned that way, some two hours thereafter, 
Mr. Brown, M.P., was fast asleep on the hillside, his cap 
over his face, and his head surrounded by a halo of killed 
grouse, that were lying in picturesque groups on the heather. 
He awoke with an air of bewildered surprise, but assented 
eagerly to our proposal that — in view of the excessive and 
insufferable heat — we should give up shooting for the day, 
and return to the Kittiwake for luncheon. Very proudly did 
he march down the glen ; and as we sat in the stern of the 
Kittiwake that afternoon, and talked of the day’s perfor- 
mances, Mr. Brown, M.P., took a cigar from his mouth, and 
airily offered to shoot grouse, for a bet, against any man in 
or out of the Hebrides. 


iN THE HIGHLANDS. 


57 


CHAPTER XII. 

% 

AMONG THE MOUNTAIN HARES. 

“ This,” said Mr. Brown, M. P., “ is enjoyment.” 

We had gone ashore after dinner, and wandered along 
the rough coast-road in the falling twilight. Mr Brown was 
now seated on a huge boulder of rock, out at a promontory 
that jutted into the sea, and, as he calmly smoked his cigar, 
he listened to the sound of the waves around him, as they 
plashed on the stony beach. In the cold green light that 
filled the sky the stars were not yet visible ; but the dark- 
ness was sufficient to show us certain glittering orange points 
along the opposite shores of Islay, where the lights of Port- 
Ascaig burned yellow in the dusk. The air was filled with 
the odor of the seaweed. As the darkness deepened we 
heard the calling of the sea-birds far out at sea ; and the 
islands of Colonsay and Oronsay, that had lain like masses 
of cloud along the horizon, now wholly disappeared. There 
was no sign of life around us but the green and red lights of 
the Kittiwake, that sent two quivering lines of color down 
on the moving plain. 

“ Here,” said Mr Brown, in an absent way, “ we can think 
of something better than killing harmless deer and slaugh- 
tering frightened birds. We forget the stupid and boorish 
exhilaration of the chase, and seek the calm and pensive 
contemplation of the sea. Do you think that any man could 
live by the sea, and fail to be a poet ? Look at it now — lis- 
ten to the distant calling of the wa\es, as if they were hold- 
ing some wild Walpurgis night out there in the darkness. 
If I had lived on the shores of Crinan, like Campbell, I, too, 
might have written something like that splendid sea-song 
which is the only national hymn worthy of the name that we 
have got ; and who could dwell among these lonely islands 
without imagining such visionary stories and legends as that 
of the Maid of Colonsay t What is the beginning of it ? — 

On Jura’s heath how sweetly swell 
The murrnurs of the mountain bee ! 


MR. PISISTRATUS BROWN, M.P, 


S8 


How softly mourns the writhed shell 
Of Jura’s shore, its parent sea ! 


But softer floating o’er the deep, 

The mermaid’s sweet sea soothing lay, 

That charmed the dancing waves to sleep 
Before the bark of Colonsay ! 

Don’t you think there is the sound of the sea in it — the mel- 
ancholy and monotonous falling of waves on the shore ? But 
we who have our -duties elsewhere — we who are driven to 
dwell on Factory Bills, and Militia Bills, and Gas and Water 
Bills, and Bills for the repression of ruffianism at elections — 
we who are cooped up in the hottest weather in that hushed 
and gloomy chamber, with the lights in the roof making all 
our faces of the color of faded butter — what chance have we 
of walking by the shore, and having our brain filled with 
dreams, and constructing some wild adventure with a mer- 
maid, or a banshee, or some such unholy and mystic crea- 
ture ? ” 

The Member for Slow struck a vesuvian on the rock, and 
Mr. Brown gave a violent start. Then he said in a peevish 
tone — 

“ Of course, you want suitable companions with you, even 
to enjoy a brief glimpse of the sea. There are some men 
who care for nothing but eating, drinking, and killing other 
animals — ” 

“ Meaning me,” remarked the Member for Slow. 

This excess of humility on the part of Mr. Weyland sud- 
denly disarmed the Member for Bourton-in-the-Marsh. Mr. 
Brown protested that he had been misunderstood. He did 
not seek to condemn the sports of the field, in moderation, 
As for Weyland himself, he was one of the very pleasantest 
companions, said Mr. Brown, a man could meet ; and how 
could we be sufficiently indebted to him for his hospitality ? ” 

“ All right, old boy,” said Weyland, “ but you are indebted 
to Hulishtaveg, not to me ; he has given you a couple of 
days’ excellent deer-shooting ; and the keeper told me that 
the district we shot over to-day is the best piece of grouse- 
shooting Maclean has got.” 

“ Grouse-shooting,” observed Mr. Brown, with the tone of 
a connoisseur, “ is neither so noble nor so picturesque a pas- 
time as the shooting of red-deer. When we were to-day pot- 
tering about the hillsides up there, I was longing to catch 
even a glimpse of the loft^- and desolate region in which we 


IN THE HIGHLANDS. 


shot the deer yesterday. But doubtless it was miles ^Way ; 
or perhaps a single chain of those splendid hills removed it, 
as it were, into another world.” 

At this moment we heard a voice calling out of the dark- 
ness, and, having answered the summons, there came down 
toward us the tall figure of Donald. 

“ I will pring you a message from Mester Maclean, and 
he wass sayin’ if you would like to go and shoot sa hares sa 
morn’s mornin’. We hef a good many hares where it will 
not frighten either sa deer or sa grouse, and he says you are 
ferry welcome.” 

Mr. Brown, M.P., turned round on his pinnacle of rock. 

“ Donald,” he said, “ you will inform Mr. Maclean that 
we do not know how to thank him for his kindness ; that we 
accept his invitation with gratitude ; and that we shall meet 
you at a reasonable and decent hour to-morrow morning — 
say nine o’clock — at any point to which you may bring the 
dogs.” 

“ Sa tawgs ? ” said Donald, in a stupefied way, “ what wass 
you wantin’ tawgs for .? ” 

“ My good man,” replied Mr. Brown, with gracious con- 
descension. “ Providence not having gifted us English peo- 
ple with the nose of a setter or pointer, how do you expect 
us to seek out hares on the side of a Highland hill ? ” 

Here, however, Mr. Weyland interfered, and endeavored 
to save Mr. Brown’s reputation for sanity by treating the 
whole matter as a joke. Donald was asked to meet us next 
morning ; and then we returned to the yacht. 

Next day we were again favored with clear and beautiful 
weather, and there was a slight breeze coming in from the 
sea, which promised to make the climbing of the hills less 
broiling work than it had proved the day before. Mr. Brown 
had sat up till twelve on the previous night to make an abun- 
dance of cartridges, so that his pockets, as well as his belt, 
were liberally provided. He had formed an idea that we 
should have a good deal of shooting. 

“ Not that I consider hare-shooting an exciting thing,” he 
remarked, as we left the shore-road and began to climb up a 
rocky path leading by a small cottage. “ Hare-shooting I 
look upon as the tamest of field sports. You probe up an un- 
fortunate animal from a tuft of grass, it runs straight before 
you, and never dodges, and who but the merest tyro could 
miss it ? ” 

“ Did you ever shoot blue hares ? ” said Mr. Weyland. 


6o 


Mr. PiSiSTRATUS brown, m. p., 


“ No, nor pink rhinoceroses,” said Mr. Brown, contemptu- 
ously ; for he evidently did not believe in the existence of 
blue hares. 

By the time, however, that w'e reached the foot of the hill 
where Donald and a boy, both armed with long saugh rods, 
were waiting for us, Mr. Weyland had delivered such a lect- 
ure on the habits and characteristics of the lepus variabilis 
that Mr. Brown was prepared to find it green as well as blue. 
Indeed, when he finally understood that he was about to en- 
gage in the pursuit of a wild mountain creature his face 
became more grave. Was this the hare, he asked, that turned 
white in the winter, and lived in the region of ptarmigan. 
Arctic bears and perpetual snow ? 

We began to ascend. Our course, in the first instance, 
lay up the side of a little ravine, down which a brown stream 
was prattling lightly ; and then we got up on the first shoulder 
of the hill. Here a brace of black game got up, but Mr. 
Brown showed admirable steadiness, and allowed them to 
sail away unharmed to some distant place of safety. Donald 
and his assistant still walked on. 

“ Hadn’t we better try this piece of swamp ? ” said 
my friend, who was apparently rather hot and considerably 
blown. 

“ It iss no use,” said Donald carelessly. “ Sa hares in sa 
goot days keep up sa hill.” 

He had scarcely spoken when Mr. Brown uttered a terrific 
shout. Some forty yards ahead of us a hare had got up from 
behind a tuft of rushes ; and just as we caught sight of her, 
Weyland had put up his gun. The next second the hare had 
rolled twice over on the spongy ground and lay there. 

“ It wass a goot shot,” said Donald gravely ; “ it wass as 
ferry goot a shot as I will have seen for many a tay.” 

Mr. Brown walked briskly up to the boy, who was now 
running back with the prize. 

“ That isn’t a blue hare, any way,” he remarked confi- 
dently. 

“ But it is,” said Weyland, “ and nothing else.” 

“ Oh, very well,” replied my friend ; “if you like to call a 
dark-gray hare a blue hare, you need stop at nothing. Out- 
side the slang of sporting men, blue is blue, and gray is gray ; 
but if in shooting gray is blue, and blue is gray, why don’t 
you talk of green deer and orange snipe ? If this is the won- 
derful prodigy we have come to shoot, I don’t anticipate much 
difficulty. As far as I can make out, it goes on four legs just 


IN THE HIGHLANDS, 


6i 


like an ordinary hare and indeed is so uncommonly like an 
ordinary hare that a charge of No. 6 shot won’t find out the 
difference.’ 

Mr. Brown smiled complacently with the air of having said 
a good thing, and then we set to work to gain the second 
shoulder of the hill. Here some greater caution was observed, 
and, indeed, we had just put our heads over the crest of the 
ascent when Donald signalled to Mr. Brown to come near 
him. The Member for Bourton-in-the-Marsh took his gun 
down from his shoulder, and, grasping it with both hands, 
crept forward, Donald pointed to a thick tuft of dried grass 
that stood by the edge of one of those long black drains that 
have now been cut through so many of the montainous sheep 
pastures of Scotland. From our point of view nothing was 
visible behind the yellow tuft of grass, but, as Donald was 
evidently anxious to let Mr. Brown get a shot, we waited to 
see him advance. What was our astonishment to see our 
friend suddenly put up his gun to his shoulder and fire. 
Nothing had stirred. We saw Mr. Brown rush forward, and 
then, with a triumphant gesture, he held up some dark ob- 
ject in the air. 

“ Look here, Donald,” said the Member for Slow, with 
perceptible irritation in his voice. “ Why didn’t you stop 
him ? When a man is such a fool as to shoot a hare sitting 
in her form, why on earth didn’t you stop him ? ” 

“ Cash pless me ! ” said Donald in a wondering way, “ I 
tit not know he wass goin’ to fire.” 

“ This is rather too bad, you know, Brown,” said Wey- 
land, with ill concealed disgust, when the Member for Bour- 
ton-in-the Marsh came back to us. 

“ What is too bad ? ” said Brown indignantly. “Shooting 
a hare when you get the opportunity ? You think I ought 
to have let her run and then shot her ! Admirable logic ! 
What does the hare care for that few yards’ scamper, and an 
extra minute of life ? Giving her a chance for her life ! 
Why, what a childish superstition that is, as if there were a 
bargain between you and the hare, or as if the hare appreci- 
ated your courtesy. Let me remind you my dear friend, that 
all these fantastic notions are of modern and spurious 
growth. Our ancestors shot how, when, and where they 
could, and none of them thought of setting birds into the air 
to have a chance of winging a do^en of ’em. No ; they shot 
them fairly and completely on the ground, and ate them 
afterward. You, yourself, when you steal up to a stag, do you 


52 Mr. PisisfkAtVs broWM, M.P.^ 

force it into the air before you fire at it ? Clear your mind 
of cant, Weyland. For my part I put aside these ridiculous 
theories aud superstitions — the sham metaphysics of the 
sporting parson ! ” 

Here Mr. Brown took a drink, and we went on. 

The noise of the shot had startled a flock of the pretty 
little Highland sheep, that had been quietly feeding at the 
further end of this plateau, and a stampede had taken place, 
the nimble little animals trotting lightly along the bare em- 
inences and down rocky gullies at a singular speed. Now 
they stood at different points and looked back, looking very 
picturesque with their small black heads, their curled horns, 
and big, intelligent eyes. We traversed the whole extent of this 
plateau without finding anything (a small covey of grouse 
got up out of shot), and then we betook ourselves to still 
higher ground. 

Here the ascent was very rugged ; masses of gray rock, 
with an occasional white vein of quartz glimmering in it, 
stood out from the side of the hill, and seemed to bar all 
progress. But it was here our day’s shooting properly began 
and in something less than half an hour we picked off three 
hares that were scuttling away among the rocks as we cau- 
tiously ascended. None of these had fallen to Mr. Brown’s 
gun ; indeed he was too busy climbing to think of firing ; and 
when we reached the top of the rocks he proposed we should 
rest awhile, and have some brief snatch of luncheon, which a 
gillie carried. The five hares were unslung from the stick 
and laid on the heather ; the sandwiches were brought forth, 
and Mr. Brown produced his flask. 

It was excessively hot. The slight breeze from the sea 
had died down — there was not enough left to stir the slight 
column of blue smoke ascending from the bowl of Mr. 
Brown’s meerschaum. The sun seemed to scorch the close 
grass and heather on the rounded shoulders of the hill, and 
the rocks seemed as if they would splinter in the fierce heat. 
In the silence that succeeded luncheon we could hear only 
the bleating of the sheep far below us, and the distant trick- 
ling of the burn. It was probable, indeed, that sleep would 
have overtaken the whole party had not Mr. Brown been 
seen to grasp his gun stealthily. We turned. The next 
moment we saw him level the weapon at a hare which had 
just then caught sight of us and was darting up toward the 
rocks above. Bang! went the first barrel ; a cloud of smoke 
rose from a piece of rock some two yards behind the hare. 


IN THE HIGHLANDS, 


63 

Bang ! went the second barrel, and Mr. Brown gazing eagerly 
through the smoke, found that he had actually killed his 
quarry. “ Well shot ! ” called out Weyland ; and then the 
Member for Bourton-in-the-Marsh laid down his gun quietly, 
and said, with a splendid affectation of indifference, “ Boy 
go and fetch that hare,” 

He took up his pipe again and smoked on peacefully. 

“ It was a remarkably good shot,” said Mr. Weyland. 

“ Oh, passable,” replied our friend. 

“ How did you catch sight of him in time ? ” 

“ I don’t generally sleep in the middle of the day,” said 
Mr. Brown, adding in a minute or two, “ I am not ashamed 
to confess that I am rather pleased to have shot this hare. 
We have now two each ; and I have learned that the speed 
of the mountain hare is not quite a synonym for lightning.” 

“You underrate your skill,” said Weyford, good-naturedly 
“ That hare just now was going at an uncommonly good pace.” 

“ Oh, all you have to do is to aim well forward — well for- 
ward,” remarked Mr. Brown seriously. “ There is nothing 
I hate so much as to see a hare or a rabbit shot in the hind 
legs — it is so very unsportsmanlike. With a little practice, 
you know, I think I could pick up my old knack of quick 
shooting. Ah ! you ought to have been with the shooting 
parties in the Black forest that I used to go down to from 
Heidelburgh in my student days. There you have to keep 
your wits about you, when you’ve got to tell between the 
bucks and the does as they go past you like lightening. By 
the way, did you ever hear ‘ Im Wald und auf der Haide’ ? ” 

The Member for Slow, said he had not ; whereupon our 
friend promised to sing it for us that night. And he was as 
good as his word. When, after the day’s shooting — we only 
got two more hares during the whole of the afternoon — we 
sat down to dinner, Mr. Brown described to Hulishtaveg, in 
the most vivacious manner, the picturesque shooting-parties 
of the Prince von Furstenberg, and then in the course of the 
evening he not only sung us “ Im Wald und auf der Haide,” 
but also, in tremulous and sentimental tones, the old and sad 
story of the “Zerbrochene Ringlein.” Mr. Brown was now 
fairly in the land of poetry and romance. He forgot all 
about the Customs Clerks’ grievances. He appealed to Mr. 
Maclean to say whether that song of the broken ring 
was not fit to move a w^hole nation to tears, and Hulishtaveg 
replied gravely. 

“ Oh^ it iss a ferry goot song — a ferry goot song, what- 


MR. PISISTRATUS BROWN, M.P., 


64 

ever. And sa words o’t will pe ferry like sa Gallic— oh, 
ferry like sa Gallic, mirover. And I trink your ferry goot 
health, Mester Prown, and hope you will often come again to 
sa Jura Hills.” 


CHAPTER XIH. 

MR. BROWN, M. P., AT A HIGHLAND WEDDING. 

Once more the stately Kittiwake spread forth her white 
wings to the breeze, and like the seabird that she was, made 
out for the sea. Maclean of Hulishtaveg, stood on the 
beach, and waved his bonnet in adieu — the sunlight showing 
us his white hair and stalwart form defined against the dark 
shadow of a rock. 

“ Farewell brave son of the hills,” said Mr. Brown, M. P., 
holding on by the ratlines and talking in a mock-heroic tone, 
which had nevertheless something of tenderness and truth in 
it ; “ Jarewell, thou venerable and kindly patriarch, whose 
frame has the strength and the dignity of thy native moun- 
tains ; whose hair is as white as the mist that hangs around 
them ; whose nature is as warm and as genial as the sun- 
shine that now falls over this blue sea. Think of him, Wey- 
land, living in this lonely island, without a relative left him 
in the world, passing the long and dreary winters indoors by 
himself, having never mixed in the crowded cities of the 
south, and yet bearing himself towards his servants, toward 
his associates, and toward strangers with the courtesy, and 
grace, and dignity of a perfect gentleman. And I wish there 
were more such gentlemen as he among our aristocracy, and 
that our House of Lords could show on its benches a dozen 
men as good as old Hulishtaveg ! ” 

“ I wish you’d let the House of Lords alone,” said Mr. 
Weyland, sharply. 

“ I don’t wonder you are anxious to shield them from 
criticism,” said the Member for Bourton-in-the-Marsh, with 
a splendid air of contempt — “ the ridiculous old nincompoops. 
I suppose they’re sitting out on their lawns just now, in easy 
chairs, wheezing asthmatically in the sunshine, listening to 


IN THE HIGHLANDS, 


6$ 

other people shooting in their fields, and feebly endeavoring 
to sip beef tea.” 

“ I presume you are not troubled with many lords among 
your relatives, or you’d know more about’em,” remarked the 
Member for Slow, with anger gathering in his eyes. 

Mr. Brown laughed gayly. 

“ My name,” he said, “ is a right good old Saxon one. 
There were Browns in this country before ever a Norman 
thief set his foot on our shores, and there will be Browns in 
this country when the efiigy of the last of the barons shall 
have been carted up to Madame Tussaud’s, and the skeleton 
of the last duke placed in the British Museum among the 
Megatheria ! Allay your wrath, Weyland. Brown is a good 
name. The first man who wore it earned it because he was, 
in actual point of fact, brown ; but the first man who was 
called duke was probably an imbecile courtier no more fit to 
lead an army than to cook a beefsteak.” 

“ It appears to me,” remarked Mr. Weyland, slowly, “ that 
you have had your head turned by the sight of the stag’s 
horns that Maclean sent down. I don’t mean to answer you 
according to your folly. The House of Lords is the most 
firmly fixed institution in the country ; and I don’t suppose 
the axis of the earth will be altered by the scraping of a 
mouse.” 

“ ’Gree, bairns, ’gree ! ” said the Glasgow bailie, “ it is 
jist by ordinar to hear twa raisonable crayturs argy-bargying 
like that on a braw, fine mornin’ when they micht as weel be 
lookin’ aboot and enjoyin’ theirsels. Hoose o’ Boards ! 
Bless me — what’s the Hoose o’ Boards to a man that’s up in 
the Soond o’ Jura ! On a day like this, I wauldna fash my 
thoomb for twenty Hooses of Boards ! ” 

No living man had ever before heard the bailie make so 
long a speech. He instantly relapsed into silence, and having 
fixed on his spectacles, betook himself to his newspaper. 
Weyland busied himself with the tiller, and kept his eye 
directed toward the small harbor of Port-Ascaig, for which 
we were bound. The Member for Bourton-in-the-Marsh 
lighted a cigar, went up to the bow, and proceeded lazily to 
scan the prospect before him — the far stretch of white sea 
away to the south, where Gigha (pronounced Yeea) and Can- 
tire lay blue in the haze. And then the Kittiwake glided 
into the small bay, the gig was lowered, and in a few minutes 
we were on the shores of Islay. The bailie had remained 
behind. He was opposed to violent exercise, and so, instead 


66 


MR. PISISTRATUS BROWN, M.P., 


of joining us in a ride across the island to meet the Kittiwake 
in Loch-indaal, he preferred to make the full circuit with the 
yacht. 

It was with some difficulty that we procured the three ani- 
mals we required to take us across, and there was even more 
trouble about getting the necessary harness. In our quest 
we were much helped by the ferryman who runs a small boat 
between Port- Ascaig and Jura. At last the steeds were forth- 
coming ; and very sorry-looking creatures they were — rough, 
rawboned brutes, that looked melancholy for want of the 
familiar cart-shafts, and yet allowed us to mount with a do- 
cile resignation that was almost pathetic. Indeed, what with 
Weyland’s yachting costume of blue and brass buttons, and 
Mr. Brown’s suit of light gray tartan, completed with a Glen- 
garry cap and a cigar, it is to be feared that our procession — 
as we left the small and thoroughly astonished village — ^was 
more remarkable for variety and picturesqueness than for any 
deference to the customs of civilized life ; and Mr. Brown, as 
he gently entreated his charger to ascend the hill lying be- 
hind Port-Ascaig, could not forbear speculating on the 
reception which would have been accorded to us in Hyde- 
park on some pleasant morning in July. But the quiet and 
simple Highland folk about saw nothing peculiar in our ap- 
pearance ; and the ferryman aforesaid, on our leaving, hinted 
that we were probably going over to the marriage at Bridge- 
end. 

What marriage ? ” said Mr. Brown. 

“ Oh, it will pe shist sa marriage o’ J ohn MacDougal, sa 
tailor frae Greenock, wi’ sa tochter o’ Sligan-dubh. Sey are 
koin’to be married at sa inn.” 

“ Why, the very inn we proposed to stay at,” remarked Mr. 
Brown in alarm ; “ And I suppose it will be filled with the 
whole clan MacDougal, including a dozen pipers.” 

We did not desist from our project, however ; and in course 
of time we found ourselves up amid the lonely flats of Islay, 
with the air around us filled with the resinous odor of 
the sweet gale, the most fragrant of all the marsh plants. 
The three horses we had borrowed v/ere not subjected to a 
severe pace ; on the contrary, they were allowed to walk so 
leisurely for the most part of the journey that we found it 
more convenient and more pleasant to descend and lead then). 
By this time the two members of Parliament had made up 
the brief quarrel of the morning ; and Mr. Brown was engaged 
in detailing to his friend such of the grievances of the Customs 


IN THE HIGHLANDS. 


67 

clerks as he had already been made familiar with. His study 
of the documents had been postponed by unavoidable causes; 
but he had nevertheless a vague notion of the subject, and 
perhaps satisfied his conscience by talking of what he knew. 
There was not much else to attract attention. The interior 
of Islay is far from being as picturesque as Jura, It consists 
chiefly of undulating moorland, here and there broken up by 
the bed of a stream, and showing an occasional cottage or 
farmhouse, the fields surrounding which stretch out into the 
black and unclaimed morass. The road was most desolate. 
Scarcely a human being was to be seen for miles. But at last 
v/e beheld a wondrous sight in this solitude — a long string of 
people, in gay dresses, coming up the road in pairs, and pre- 
ceded by two pipers. And while they were yet distant we 
heard the strange, wild music of the pipes, that had some- 
thing in its peculiar wail and skirl that seemed appropriate 
to this savage wilderness. As we drew nearer the music 
resolved itself into an air, and we knew that this was the 
wedding-party, for the pipes were playing no pibroch of 
Locheil, but the familiar Lowland tune of “Wooed and 
married . and a’.” After the pipers came the bridegroom and 
bride, the former a tall young follow, whose pale face and 
slight figure contrasted strongly with the browned, bearded, 
and thickset men who followed in the procession. The bride 
was a fresh and healthy-looking lass, with rosy cheeks, dark 
hair, and dark blue eyes, who blushed prodigiausly at the 
jokes which were being shouted by the company. Immedi- 
ately behind the wedded pair came the best-man, arm-in-arm 
with the chief bridemaid, and then followed the string of 
friends and relatives, the old people winding up the proces- 
sion. 

As we got near them they turned into a house that stood 
a short distance from the wayside : but the best-man re- 
mained for a second or two until we came up, and insisted 
on our drinking our good health of the young couple. In 
answer to Mr. Brown’s inquiries he explained that this was 
his house ; that they were going to remain there for an hour 
or two before going on to the bridegroom’s father’s farm ; 
that the marriage had taken place down at Bridge-end Inn, 
and that the tall tailor was a great favorite, for he had come 
a fortnight in advance of the marriage, and gone round to 
the houses of his friends, and presented them each with a 
day’s sewing. The best-man pointed to his own coat and 
waistcoat — garments composed of thick and rough homes- 


68 PISISTRA TUS PRO PVAT, M. P . , 

spun cloth — as an evidence of MacDougal’s skill ; and 
added that, in return, he thought the least he could do was 
to send on three gallons of the best Lagavulin whisky to 
MacDougal’s father’s farm. 

“There will pe sa great doin’s there this nicht,” he said. 
“ There will pe forty or fifty folk there, and there is two 
fiddlers cornin’ over frae Bowmore, besides sa twa pipers. 
It will pe a ferry goot weddin’ whatever ; and sa minister — 
he took a glass o’ whusky wi’ us, and said that Bella was as 
braw a lass as he had married for years and years tagether. 
Wass you koin to Bridge-end or Bowmore ? ” 

“ We are going to Bridge-end,” replied Mr. Brown, in a 
bland manner, “ but we are not in any hurry ; and if you 
would be kind enough to let us join your party for a short 
time, I should be delighted to send down to Bridge-end for 
another gallon of Lagavulin.” 

The small blue eyes in the sunburned face were opened 
to their fullest extent. 

“ What wass you sayin’.? More whusky ? Cash pless 
me, our whusky is ferry goot — oh, ferry goot whusky! 
What wass you wantin’ to send to Bridge-end for ? — but 
come in to sa hoose — come in to sa hoose — and you will find 
it ferry goot whusky whatever.” 

We abandoned our steeds to the care of an urchin ; but, 
instead of going into the house, went up into the yard 
whither nearly all the party had preceded us. Here two 
“ four-some reels” were being danced with immense vigor, 
the piper standing firm and erect, blowing lustily, and tap- 
ping on the ground with his foot in time with the wild music. 
And when this performer — an old man, with long gray hair, 
who was the only person pre sent wearing the kilt — was 
marched up to the chair on which a cask of Lagavulin was 
placed, his post was occupied by one of the guests, who had 
found an old violin somewhere. Why was it_that all the 
young folk sprung up when he began to play ? Mr. Brown, 
M. P., snapping his fingers in time to the music, and laugh- 
ing prodigiously, and crying, “ Hey I ” occasionally, as some 
strapping young fellow gave a grand pirouette in the air, 
was suddenly startled by the departure of the violin into a 
series of discordant shrieks. Lo ! the reel stopped. Each 
of the bearded dancers caught his partner, and, after a little 
rough by-play, succeeded in imprinting a kiss on her rosy 
and blushing cheek. And then the violin returned to its 
more decorous duties : the reel was recommenced ; and the 


m THE HIGHLANDS. 


69 


couples danced on until they were tired, and until the men 
were ready for another dram. 

Mr. Brown, M. P., was subsequently introduced to the 
bride ; but, as her stock of English, was very limited, her 
share in the conversation chiefly consisted of blushing. The 
old people were very pleased to have strangers grace the 
ceremony ; but here again there were obstacles, for all the 
English the bride’s mother knew was, “ Coot tay, sir, coottay !” 
It was, however, pointed out to the Member for Bourton-in-the- 
Marsh that he was delaying the procession, which had yet 
about a dozen miles of rough moorland and bog to get over ; 
and so, as we got on our horses again out came the two pi- 
pers and the fiddler — all playing at once — the company once 
more divided itself into pairs, and away they went along the 
road, with many a laugh and a joke. The best-man, who 
was certainly excited, shook hands with us in a most affec- 
tionate manner on parting ; and indeed it seemed probable 
that he would shed tears. 

When we got down to Bridge-end Inn we found that the 
excitement caused by the marriage had not subsided there. 
Some friends from the northern side of the island, who 
could not go all the way, had remained in the inn, and they, 
too had a piper. The marriage had been solemnized in the 
public room of the place — chairs and tables having been 
cleared out ; and in this empty room the remaining visitors 
were now holding high jinks — dancing, drinking, and joking, 
while in the corner an old man was singing, to a select au- 
dience, in a shrill, quavering key, some song which was 
probably of his own composition. Our host informed us 
that they would soon start on their homeward journey, piper 
and all, and so, having arranged about getting the three 
chargers returned to Port-Ascaig, we set off for an afternoon 
stroll. 

Issuing from the trees round Bridge-end we came in sight 
of the broad waters of Loch-Indaal (pronounced Lock-Indawl, 
the accent on the last syllable), with the small town of Bow- 
more sending up a faint cloud of blue smoke in the even- 
ing sky. There was a stiff breeze blowing up from the west, 
and a small sailing-boat — probably a ferry between Bowmore 
and the other side of the loch — was dipping well to the waves 
and scattering the white foam from her bows. Of course, 
there were as yet no tidings of the Kittiwake ; and we could 
only imagine her making head against the wind away on the 
northern side of the island, with our friend the Glasgow bailie 


70 MR, PISISTRATUS BROWN, M.P„ 

looking out on the open waters of the Atlantic or gazing down 
into the south to find on the misty horizon the pale blue line 
of the Irish coast. 


CHAPTER XIV. 

HOMEWARD BOUND. 

While the Kittiwake lay in Loch Indaal a batch of letters 
arrived ; and among them was one which seemed to cause Mr. 
Brown, M.P., some concern. By the aid of a telescope, he 
had been endeavoring to make out the Irish coast ; but now he 
came aft, laid down the glass, and informed us gravely that 
Mr. had sent him an invitation to go shooting in Berk- 
shire. Now this Mr. is a Cabinet Minister, and there 

were many reasons, said Mr. Brown, why the invitation should 
be at once accepted. 

“ I should have thought Cabinet Ministers had had enough 
of Berkshire,” said the Member for Slow, with a sneer. “ Why 
doesn’t he ask you to go shooting in Hampshire ? But, if you 
must go, don’t be in a hurry. I will take you back to Green- 
ock, and there you can get the London train. Besides, you 
know you have to call in at Arran for your kilt.” 

“ True,” said Mr Brown, thoughtfully. “ And there is 
another reason why a day or two’s delay might be advisable. 
Somehow or other I have never been able to study those 
papers I brought away with me, you know, referring to the 
grievances of the Customs clerks. Here is a capital oppor- 
tunity. A day or two devoted to them will be time well spent ; 
for then I shall go up to Berkshire with the subject fresh in 

my mind, and be able to lay it before . Indeed, I am 

very glad that I have so far postponed the consideration of 
those documents ; but now there must be no further delay.” 

All this was satisfactory. The Kittiwake spread out her 
white sails, Weyland took up his post at the tiller, and very 
soon she was cutting through the blue plains of Loch In- 
daal, with a dash of curling foam at her bows, a gurgling of 
waters along her bulwarks, and a line of hissing white in her 
wake. As we got out into the open sea, we caught sight of 
the Rathlin Isles lying like a faint thread of purple on the 


IN THE HIGHLANDS. 


71 

southern horizon. Rounding the Mull of Islay, we got into 
rather a heavy sea ; and not unfrequently one of the long- 
rolling Atlantic waves would rush up to the Kittiwake, take 
her at a disadvantage, and send a deluge of water over her 
decks. There was a brisk breeze, too, and when some less 
formidable wave hit the side of the yacht and rose towering 
into the air, the wind tossed the spray all over us, until our 
waterproofs gleamed wet in the sunshine. 

“ Is she not rather a small boat to be out in the open 
sea ? ” said Mr. Brown, timidly, looking away down toward 
the North Channel and the stormy Mull of Cantire. 

“ Why this is nothing,” said the Member for Slow, shak- 
ing the salt water from his beard, “ this is nothing to what 
you’ll get going round the Mull. If you like we can run in 
for Port Ellen and take her up through the Crinan to-mor- 
row ; but with this wind we’ll get clean away round to Arran 
this afternoon, and there is no more danger than if you were 
sitting in a hansom in Palace-yard.” 

“ Oh, I’m not afraid,” said the Member for Bourton-in- 
the-Marsh, standing erect, but grasping the twisted steel 
shrouds with a firm hand. “ Don’t imagine I’m afraid. Per- 
sonally, I like this — I enjoy it — it stirs your blood and sets 
your spirits on fire — but — but it was the safety of the boat I 
was thinking of.” 

“ Oh, the yacht will take care of herself,” said Mr Wey- 
land, good-naturedly. “ In this sort of weather a sea swal- 
low is as safe as an albatross.” 

Certainly, the Kittiwake behaved very well and as we got 
further to the south, a greater strain was put on her seafar- 
ing qualities. We were now fully exposed to the long Atlantic 
swells, and each time the clean little vessel went shivering 
down into the trough of w^ave, the next great green mountain 
seemed looming over her, as if about to break and engulf her. 
How lightly she rose, with the grace of a sea bird, to the 
summit of these mighty waves — how she seemed to shake the 
white foam back from her bows— and how she sped south- 
ward — apparently the only living thing on this great waste of 
waters — cannot be described. Weyland spoke of her affec- 
tionately, as of a companion who had gone with him on many 
a quest, and never failed. He laughed,and talked, and joked 
at the pitch of his voice ; while his face, grown red with the 
beating of the spray and gleaming with the wet, burned in 
the sunlight. . A finer day for such an excursion could 
scarcely have been wished for. Overhead, the sky was 


72 


MR. PISISTRATUS BROWN, M.P., 


plain of deep, pure blue ; and not a cloud was visible, ex- 
cept some white patches of mist that hung about the moun- 
tains of Jura far up in the north. Down in the south the 
outline of the Irish coast remained still indistinct ; but the 
Mull of Cantire was gradually becoming more clear, and we 
could see a white spurt of foam occasionally springing up 
the face of the precipitous rocks. All around us the hur- 
rying plain of waves showed a thousand colors, as the sun- 
light, and the green color of the sea, and the blue reflection 
of the sky struggled for mastery, and gleamed here and there 
on the innumerable angles of the water. In the far distance, 
however, the reflection of the sky prevailed ; and around the 
shores of Cantire the sea was of a dark, intense and troubled 
blue. 

It was not until we got down to the Mull that Mr. Brown, 
M. P., succumbed, and went below. There was some excuse 
for him. Here the regular swell of the Atlantic was broken 
up by a series of currents — they say that five tides meet just 
south of that wild promontory — and the result was an irregu- 
lar, chopping sea, that knocked the Kittiwake about as if she 
were a cork. We saw no more of the member for Bourton- 
in-the-Marsh. He missed the sight of that strange wall of 
fissured rock, up which spouts of foam were leaping to a height 
of sixty or eighty feet as the heavy waves dashed in on the 
iron-bound coast. But as we got past the Sanda lighthouse 
the sea was less rough ; and by the time we had got round 
Pladda, and into the calmer waters to leeward of the Kildo- 
nan Rocks, the Kittiwake had recovered her equanimity, and 
her decks were becoming dry. 

Then Mr. Brown, M P., appeared. His face was very 
white ; but he endeavored to assume a cheerful look. 

“ Yes,” said he, “ I have made some progress with those 
Customs papers now. It is astonishing what you can do in 
a short space of time, when you put your mind to it.” 

“ I am glad the yacht did not pitch so as to interfere with 
your study,” remarked Mr. Weyland, gravely. 

“ Well,” said Mr. Brown, with a candid air, “ it was rather 
rough, wasn’t it ? But I’m not such a bad sailor, you 
know.” 

Here he began to whistle “ A Life on the Ocean Wave ; ” 
and by and by, while the color was slowly returning to his 
face, we ran up by the coast of Arran, getting a glimpse of 
the smooth waters and string of cottages of Whiting Bay, 
the round shoulders of the Holy Island, and the not very 


IN THE HIGHLANDS, 

picturesque houses of Lamlash, until we finally rounded 
Clachland Point, and stood in toward Brodick Bay, anchor- 
ing not far from the jetty used by the ferryboats. 

We landed in the gig, and made our way up to the hotel, 
where a large parcel was found waiting for Mr. Brown, M. P. 
He blushed slightly on being informed of the fact ; Mr. 
Weyland laughed. The fact was that some days before Wey- 
land had persuaded our friend to order a suit of kilts from a 
tailor in Glasgow, as a memento of his Highland tour. Mr. 
Brown was shy at first ; but it was pointed out to him that at 
a fancy ball, or at one of the Scotch celebrations in London, 
his picturesque costume would stand him in good stead. At 
length he was won over ; and the tailor was directed to send 
the bundle down to Brodick, where the Kittiwake was to 
call. 

For a long time Mr. Brown was doubtful about that kilt. 
The fact was we had not seen, in all our wanderings over 
Highlands and Lowlands, a single Scotchman wear the tra- 
ditional garb of his country, except here and there a game- 
keeper and a few English tourists. But at last, the costume 
being ready to his hand, and Brodick being a small place in 
which to try the experiment, he at length retired to a dress- 
ing-room, and we lost sight of him. 

When Mr. Brown, M. P., came downstairs again, our first 
impulse was certainly not to laugh at him. There was a mute 
and sensitive appeal in his eyes. Weyland spoke of the cos- 
tume approvingly and in a light manner ; and then hinted that 
Mr. Brown might accompany us down to a little wooden erec- 
tion near the jetty, where we proposed to purchase some pho- 
tographs. Our friend glanced rather nervously out into the 
open air, as little boys do when they are about to be carried 
down for their first dip in the sea. Then a ghastly and pain- 
ful smile appeared on his face for a moment, and he said, 
“All right.” 

We went out. Mr. Brown’s costume, in the tartan of the 
Gordons, was resplendent, and the^ silver mountings and 
flashing jewels with which it was set shone in the evening 
light. Unhappily, however, the most conspicuous part of 
him was that which the kilt left uncovered, and there Mr. 
Brown seemed to rival the snowy whiteness of Andromeda, as 
she stood chained on the rock over the blue sea. Once or 
twice we caught him glancing apprehensively down, and a 
shiver occasionally passed through his frame as the wind blew 


'74 MR. PISISTRATUS BROWN, M.P., 

up from the bay. However, no one spoke of his dress, and 
he in a somewhat loud tone of voice began to say, — 

‘‘ What do you think, Weyland, I ought to do with that 
solan goose ? I know a family of very nice young ladies at 
Laurie Park, Sydenham, and I should like to send them 
something from Scotland. Would the stuffed solan do ? I 
hate sending game, which is in effect a commonplace and 
ridiculous custom, filling people’s larders for nothing, and 
cheating the poulterer out of his legitimate gains. I think I 
shall send the deer’s horns home to my own house, and the 
stuffed solan down to Sydenham.” 

There were few loiterers about the small quay. Their eyes 
were apparently attracted toward Mr. Brown. He paid no 
attention. On the contrary he began to hum a French song 
— something about “ Mire dans mes yeux tes yeux, ma belle 
brunette ” — and then we reached the photographer’s shop or 
hut, into which we escaped from the gaze of the vulgar. 

There was a very charming young lady of about thirteen 
selling those sixpenny treasures of art. Mr. Brown had en- 
tered the place with something of a swagger, but now he 
seemed anxious to get either of his companions to stand in 
front of him. He even seemed to crouch down a little bit 
whenever the soft eyes of this amiable young person were 
turned toward him. His face wore an uncomfortable look. 
He bought things recklessly. He answered at haphazard, 
and in rather a snappish tone. At last, when we got out, he 
said, in a voice of suppressed rage : 

“ Why did the fool make those confounded things so 
short ! ” 

“ They are quite as long as usual,” said Weyland, “ only 
you’re not accustomed to them.” 

He had scarcely uttered the words when a sudden commo- 
tion occurred. A keeper had come down to the jetty with a 
brace of setters in leash, and a big black retriever, with rather 
wolfish eyes. No sooner did the black dog behold Mr. Brown 
and the unusual spectacle of his milk-white calves, than he 
rushed furiously at him. Mr. Brown uttered a sharp low 
cry, and stumbled backward into the photographer’s shop. 
The dog followed him, closed up on him, and stood with his 
fore feet stuck out, barking wildly, and apparently about to 
spring at the members which had offended him. An exciting 
scene now followed. The young lady endeavored to push 
back the dog with an umbrella. Mr. Brown, with a face 
grown white, tried to get behind the small counter, and 


IN THE HIGHLANDS. 


75 

failed. Weyland aimed a kick at the brute, and missed. The 
keeper tried to collar him, without avail ; and it was not until 
a whole posse comitatus of boatmen, servants, and loungers 
had hunted the dog olf and tied him up that our pale and 
alarmed friend ventured forth. We got him up to the hotel, 
where he took a little brandy, and then tried to put a brave 
face on the matter. 

“ Those horrid curs ! ’ he exclaimed ; “ I wonder if that 
brute belongs to the Duke of Hamilton. If so I should be 
inclined to write to him, and I am sure the Duke would order 
the keeper to shoot the dog.” 

“ You have had rather an adventure with your kilt,” said 
the Member for Slow in a kind way. 

“ I shan’t take it off for that,” said Mr. Brown, courage- 
ously. 

It was now close upon dinner time, and we walked into 
the large room. One or two people were already there, and 
among them were a lady and her two daughters, whom Wey- 
land knew. He took occasion to introduce his friends ; and 
Mr. Brown found himself constrained to bring forward a 
chair and sit down in front of the mamma. Presently we 
observed that there was a crimson hue over his forehead, 
and he spoke in a nervous fashion. We could see him twitch- 
ing at his kilt occasionally, and edging his chair round. The 
color in his face deepened ; his embarrassment grew pain- 
fully obvious. At length he rose to his feet, and said, in 
almost an excited way — 

“ Will you excuse me. Madam } I think I have forgotten 
my — my — my handkerchief.” 

With that he got out of the room ; and in about a quarter 
of an hour, when we were all at dinner, he returned, in the 
ordinary attire of a sane person. But rage fierce . and un- 
controllable still dwelt in his eyes. 

“ Think of the infamous ruffian,” he said, in a vicious 
whisper, “ making a costume like that, and we supposed to 
be living in civilized society ! I declare I’ll give them to the 
first crossing sweeper I meet at Netting hill, and make him 
wear them to bring eternal disgrace on garments that are not 
fit for a savage. The Caledonian Ball t Bah, I suppose the 
gentlemen who go to that interesting ceremony complain of 
the dresses worn by ballet girls. They ought to be ashamed 
of themselves.” 

“Which.?” said Weyland, “the gentlemen or the ballet 
girls .? ” 


76 


MR. PISISTRATUS BROWN, M.P., 


“ You,” replied Mr, Brown, “ for having inveigled me into 
making an ass of myself. But you don’t catch me doing it 
again ; no, never, if I lived in the desert of Sahara, without 
a human being to be found within a thousand miles of me. It 
is not, however, the ridicule of the vulgar that I fear ; it is 
the censure of your own mind when you have been led to 
sacrifice your self-respect.” 

Mr. Brown’s vehemence, however, died down ; and after 
dinner when we were peacefully smoking a cigar, he even 
managed to laugh over the adventure with the dog. And 
then he told us in a confidential mood of the manner in 
which he meant to appeal to the Cabinet Minister about the 
grievances of the Customs clerks, and of the great deeds he 
expected to do among the partridges after his experiences in 
the North. 


CHAPTER XV. 

THE LAST TURN. 

Mr. Brown had now to decide whether he would remain 
in Arran next day, and get up to Greenock on the following 
morning, or whether he would finish up his Highland wan- 
derings by a run through the Kyles of Bute. He wisely 
chose the latter alternative. Like children on a garden 
swing, he wanted “ a good one for the last ; ” and Weyland 
had quite, stimulated his curiosity by his talk of the fairy love- 
liness of the Kyles. 

“ Besides,” said Mr. Brown, “ during the quiet sail up 
there, I shall be able to give an hour or two to those papers. 
I have little time left now and must economize it.” 

Accordingly, on a beautiful and bright forenoon, we bade 
farewell to Brodick Bay, and stood out into the broad estuary 
of the Clyde, which is here as spacious and as clear as an 
inland sea." We had a magnificent view of the Arran moun- 
tains as we got out some little distance from the shore — their 
splendid peaks just touched here and there with a flake of 
white cloud, while a flood of sunlight poured down into the 
great valleys of Glen Rosa and Glen Sannox, and lay drow- 


IN THE HIGHLANDS, 


ily on the fir-woods surrounding Brodick Castle. We 
passed the steamer coming over from Ardrossan ; and Mr. 
Brown, standing at the bow, waved his handkerchief to the 
passengers — a salute which was returned. 

It was indeed a pleasant morning. There was just 
enough westerly wind to fill our sails and ruffle the blue 
bosom of the deep ; and the Kittiwake, scarcely lying over, 
cut lightly through the water. The further we got north, the 
more lovely seemed the prospect that lay all around us. 
Over there on the right were the smooth hills and long- 
stretching woods of Ayrshire, with the towns of Troon, 
Irvine, and Ardrossan glimmering through a faint haze of 
smoke ; further up the two Cumbraes seemed to be almost 
close inshore ; right ahead of us were the lonely shores and 
green undulations of the Island of Bute ; and away on our 
left, the Sound of Bute stretched up toward the Cowal coast 
and the broad mouth of Loch Fyne. 

Nowhere in all our wanderings had we seen such numbers 
and varieties of sea-birds ; and Mr. Brown’s attention was 
wholly given up to watching for long strings of wild duck, 
and clouds of tern, and clusters of guillemots floating on the 
waves. Great was his anxiety, too, to discover whether each 
white gull that appeared in the distance was not a’solan ; and, 
in point of fact, he was gratified by the sight of at least half 
a dozen of those birds — hovering singly, for the most part, 
over the smooth waters that lay under the shadow of the 
shores of Cantire. At last, so many and so various were the 
strange animals that kept flying about and tantalizing him, 
that he went below and fetched up Weyland’s gun. 

“ I thought you had gone down for the Customs clerks’ 
papers,” remarked the Member for Slow, gravely. 

“ Bother the Customs clerks’ papers ! ” said Mr. Brown ; 
and then he added in rather a vexed tone, “ why can’t you 
allow a man to have a moment’s relaxation ? No sooner 
does one begin to feel amused and prone to enjoy the passing 
moments without thinking, than you must thrust forward 
your admonitions about work. I don’t think it’s friendly. I 
don’t see that you do so much work yourself.” 

Weyland looked surprised. 

“ Why,” said he, ‘‘ I never mentioned the matter before, 
and you have done nothing ever since you have been on 
board but talk of your confounded Customs clerks, and what 
you meant to do with them. You needn’t get into a temper 
simply because you have been indolent.” 


78 


MR. PISISTRATUS PRO JVM, M.P., 


“ Indolent ! ” said the Member for Bourton-in-the-Marsh, 
laughing bitterly. “ Indolent ! When I escaped from the 
fag end of a laborious session to recruit my health, which had 
been broken by late hours and close attention to parliament- 
ary business, there was not much call for me to attack new 
work. But I did it voluntarily. Of my own free will I un- 
dertook this task. Of my own free will I have devoted my 
leisure to the study of those papers ” 

“ When ? ” said Mr. Weyland. 

♦ “ When you were asleep, as you generally are,” was the 

retort. 

At this point both Members of Parliament, catching each 
other’s eye, burst out laughing ; and the Scotch bailie, who 
had not spoken a word all the morning, joined in. 

“ To hear ye talk,” said our stout friend, “ ane would 
think ye had nae mair minners than a wheen school-laddies.- 
But I’m thinking ye have learned a’ that in Paurliament. 
Short o’ downright sweerin’, the language you sometimes 
use on both sides o’ the House is only fit for carters.” 

“ But the Conservative side at least preserves the show of 
courtesy,” remarked Weyland. 

“ The Liberal side,” retorted Mr. Brown, “ having truth 
for its banner, can afford to speak fearlessly, and express its 
opinions about its opponents.” 

With that the Member for Bourton-in-the-Marsh departed 
to the bow of the Kittiwake, with Weyland’s breech-loader in 
his hand, and the grievances of the Customs clerks were once 
more relegated to the unknown future. 

We were now in Inchmarnoch Water, and -before us ap- 
peared the entrance into the magic wonders of the Kyles. A 
soft summer haze lay over the wooded hills and rocks, and 
the breeze was insensibly fading off ; so that to leeward of 
Ardlamont Point the sea was still and smooth. It did not 
seem probable that we should get sufficient wind to carry us 
up to Tighnabruich ; but we were still creeping along, and 
in course of time we were fairly up to Ardlamont Point, and 
into the Kyles. 

Even as the discovery of America was announced by the 
firing of a cannon from the vessel of Fernandez Ponto, so our 
entrance into the Kyles of Bute was signalized by the report 
of Mr. Brown’s breach-loader. We looked up toward the 
bow, and beheld our friend gesticulating wildly to the sailors, 
while some distance ahead a small object was floating on the 
water. The yacht was run close up to it, and then one of 


tN THE HIGHLAND^'. 


79 

the sailors dextrously fished up the dead bird from the 
waves. It was a tern ; and as Mr. Brown came aft in triumph, 
to show us the beautiful gray and speckled plumage and the 
curved, swallow-like wings, Weyland said — 

“ What a shame to kill one of those birds ! It is mere 
wanton slaughter.” 

“ I don’t see it in that light,” remarked Mr. Brown cool- 
ly. “ I am going down partridge-shooting. I wished to try 
the distance you must fire in front of a bird going at a great 
speed, and so I fired at this tern as he was going past like 
lightning. You see the result. It was a test— the tern be- 
ing nearly of the same size as the partridge.” 

“ Is it ? I suppose you mean to fire at cheepers or any- 
thing, and have , Cabinet Minister as he is, swearing at 

you like a trooper.” 

“ I am not in the habit of making myself ridiculous when 
out shooting,” said Mr. Brown, with some dignity. 

But this incident of the tern seemed to have drawn our 
friend’s attention in a new direction. He kept fidgeting 
about with the gun. He lamented that there would not now 
be time for his forming that collection of sea-birds he had 
once spoken of. He spoke of nothing but powder and lead, 
and wads and charges, until, finally, he said to Weyland, in 
an appealing voice, — 

“ I say, Weyland, couldn’t we have some shooting some- 
where this afternoon ? ” 

“ Well, no,” said the Member for Slow ; “ not unless you 
like to go out in the evening to pot those divers, and that is 
not a very exciting form of amusement.” 

“ Oh, I think it is,” said Mr. Brown, eagerly. “ Fancy 
the romance of it — the calm of the evening — the lovely 
scenery — the anxiety of the chase : by all means let us go 
out.” 

Not a word about the Customs clerks. We slowly sailed 
up into the Kyles : a slight breeze just sufficed to carry us 
onward ; and as we got up to Karnes, all the loveliness of 
the place spread out before us. For the moment Mr. Brown 
was drawn from watching the sea-birds to contemplating that 
beautiful picture — the winding channel of blue water, the 
craggy hills, the deep umbrageous woods coming down to 
the very margin of the sea, the occasional white cottage 
gleaming above the shingly beach, and here and there a 
yacht coming out with all her sails set from the recesses of 
some secret bay. So still the place was, too, in the after- 


8o 


MR. PISISTRATUS BROWN, M. P, 


noon-sunlight ! We could hear nothing but the ripple of the 
water along the side of the Kittiwake, and the calling of tho 
wild birds. When at last we came to an anchorage at Tigh- 
nabruich, and landed, and walked up to the inn there, Mr. 
Brown declared he had seen no lovelier scenery anywhere in 
the world. 

But these pleasant surroundings and after-luncheon lazi- 
ness of the afternoon did not wean him from his fell pur- 
pose. About six o’clock that night you might have seen us 
get into a little open sailing-boat, which had a heap of big 
stones lying along the bottom by way of ballast. 

The owner and skipper of the craft was a sort of half 
boatman, half fisherman — an old weatherbeaten man, with a 
Scotch bonnet and garments patched and mended in many 
places. He was silent and even morose, and went about his 
work as though we had “ requirit” his services, instead of 
having offered him a very handsome reward for the use of 
his boat. 

However, Mr. Brown, M. P., took no heed of these 
things, nor did he pay any attention to Mr. Weyland’s pro- 
testations against the unsportsmanlike errand on which we 
were bent. It was his last evening in the Highlands. Per- 
haps he might never again have a chance of shooting at those 
wild creatures of the deep which had woven a spell of fasci- 
nation over him. He even forgot the brief and emphatic 
speech he had made in the House on the destruction of the 
wild-birds along our coast, when the Bill to prevent that was 
brought in. 

How lovely the Kyles looked now, with the red colors of 
the sunset shining over the sea and the hills, and catching 
the sides of the mountains up by Loch Striven! Far down 
in the south, too, the great plain lay still and silent, with 
here and there the sail of a fishing-smack glowing like a 
speck of crimson flame over the darkened surface of the waters. 
We lay in the stern of the small boat, and smoked our pipes, 
as she slowly got out to sea before a light breeze coming off 
the hills. Mr. Brown was up at the bow, his back against 
the mast, and his position partially concealed by the jib in 
front of him. He alone had brought a gun with him. Once 
or twice we saw him put it up to his shoulder ; and then 
again he would drop it with some low-muttered exclamation. 

There were birds about somewhere. We could hear them 
calling. Now and again a whirr of wings was audible in the 
distance ; but none of the “ dookers” came our way. At 


IN TIIR HIGHLANDS. 


Si 

last, however, we saw the boatman touch Mr. Brown’s arm, 
and point out something floating on the waves, or rather 
ripples, of the sea. There were two black specks visible on 
that purple plain, and we could see the boat’s prow slowly 
wearing round toward them. The more near we got, the 
more clearly we saw the two birds— obviously “ dookers,” 
with their shining black and white plumage and curved beak. 
They were paddling about, in open disregard of us, and some- 
times stretching themselves up to flutter their wings. When 
the boat was certainly not more than fifteen yards from them, 
off went both of Mr. Brown’s barrels with a noise which was 
echoed all along the solitary shores of the Kyles. 

“ What a beastly shame ! ” said Weyland. 

“ Run the boat to,” shouted Mr. Brown to the man, “ run 
her up : turn her head ! I know I killed them — I am sure I 
killed them — I’ll swear they’re killed ! ” 

The old brown-faced man did not take the least notice of 
Mr. Brown’s excitement. 

“ They were doon before the shot reached them,” he said, 
moodily. 

Whether the birds had “ ducked the shot,” or whether Mr. 
Brown had blown them into nothingness, we saw no further 
traces of them ; and so once more our friend resumed his 
post, and we drifted further down. A very few minutes suf- 
ficed to discover to the anxious eyes at the bow another dark 
object on the water ; and this time, just as the bird was 
fluttering its wings, we again heard a loud bang ! and the 
unfortunate animal turned over on the water, and lay there 
Weyland ran the boat close to the prize, and Mr. Brown, 
leaning over the side, made a dash at the bird and secured 
it. It is true, that at the same moment he had plunged his 
arm up to the elbow’ in the sea ; but that did not damp the 
triumph with which he brought forward his quarry for our in- 
spection. The bright eyes of the diver were still unglazed, 
and its smooth and clean plumage was dripping with the sea- 
water. 

“ What is the use of killing those unfortunate animals ? ” 
said Mr. Weyland once more. 

“ Practice,” observed the Member for Bourton-in-the- 
Marsh. “ It is a deal more difficult to hit those birds than 
you imagine, when you have to steady yourself against the 
heaving of the boat, and at the same time watch the moment 
they are likely to come to the top of the wave.” 


82 


MR. PISISTRATUS BROWN, M.P., 


“ And is that good practice for shooting in Berkshire ? '' 
inquired the Member for Slow. 

“ If you don’t like it, we can land you,” returned Mr. 
Brown. 

“ On the contrary,” said Weyland, “ I enjoy myself where 
I am, amazingly, especially when I have the pleasure of your 
society and amiable conversation. I was only thinking how 
those birds liked it.” 

“ There are plenty of ’em,” said Mr. Brown, with a cal- 
lous indifference which showed the brutalizing effect of a 
breech-loader. 

And there were plenty of them. A few minutes there- 
after, we steered right into a cluster of “ dookers,” and here 
Mr. Brown fired right and left, slipping in cartridges and 
letting them off so long as there was a bird visible. Out of 
the lot he got two — at least, we could only find two, for in 
the curious metallic glare now falling over the sea it was difl&- 
cult to distinguish objects. 

“ Are you satisfied with your aimless slaughter now ? ” 
asked Weyland. 

‘‘ I don’t consider it aimles^ slaughter,” retorted Mr. 
Brown, “ when I mean to eat the birds.” 

“ Eat them ! ” 

“ Yes, why not ? ” 

“ You’ll have a taste of herring in your mouth for a 
month.” 

“ The flavor of herring is not disagreeable in herring ; 
why should it be in a bird ? All you have to do is to imagine 
you are eating herring.” 

“ Your philosophy won’t prevent your becoming sick.” 

“ We shall see,” replied Mr. Brown. 

It was now resolved that we should make for Tighnabruich 
once more, lest the wind should fail us ; and the chances 
were, besides, that Mr. Brown would have some more shoot- 
ing on the way. But even he was weaned away from his 
watch by the extraordinary appearances now around us. The 
sun had gone down i but there was still a glow of red and 
yellow in the west. The hills above Tighnabruich were a 
dark, intense purple, that heightened the wild clear glare of 
the sky above. But the most peculiar sight of all was the 
singular radiance that was over the water — a glow of strange 
greenish yellow that broke into a thousand shapes as the 
waves rolled on. In the dusk the metallic glare of the sea 
was almost painful to the eyes ; and we were glad to turn 


IN THE HIGHLANDS. 


83 

from it to the pure colors above, where a pale blue was 
shaded with pink, where the eastern sky caught the reflection 
of the sunset. The hills about the Kyles grew more and 
more dark. The sickle of the moon rose in the south, but 
her radiance was as yet not strong enough to touch the 
waves. When we finally got back to Tighnabruich, there 
were stars faintly visible in the sky, and a cold night-wind 
coming down from the solitudes of the hills. 

“ To-morrow,” said Mr. Brown, “ I go south. If I have 
in the excitement of the chase, offended you at any moment, 
Weyland, I am sorry for it. I leave Scotland, and all those 
magnificent scenes we have visited, with a deep and pro- 
found regret ; and I shall often think of the splendid days 
we had together in the Kittiwake. But, you see, business 
calls me away — the hard and stern duties of the world. Do 
you think now I shall be able to study those Customs docu- 
ments in the train, as I go up to London, to-morrow ? ” 

“ I don’t know,” said Weyland. “ If I were you I should 
leave them over until I got to Berkshire.” 

“ I think I must,” said Mr. Brown, thoughtfully. “ There 
is nothing that more clearly distinguishes the prudent man 
than the faculty of being able to sketch out and apportion his 
time so as to keep work and play in their proper and relative 
positions.” 


THE END. 


ENOCH HOBGAN’S SOW 




GUtAJSTDg SQ,TJ-A.HH .AJET3D TJIPItlCa-ITT I>X.AJN‘OS. 

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WOMAN’S Place To-day. 

Four lectures in reply to the Lenten lectures on “Woman,” by the Rev. 

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No. 104, liOVELli’S LIBRARY, Paper Covers, 20 Cents, 
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Mrs. Lillie Devereux Blake is a very eloguent lady, and a thorn in the side 
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Dimensions \ Height, 75 Inches; Length, 48 inches; Depth, 24 inches. This 6-Octave 
Organ, with Ktool, Book and Music, we will box and deliver at dock in New York, for 
$125. Send try express, prepaid, check, or registered letter to 

SICKIHSOIT & CO., Pianos and Organs, 

Id West nth Street, New York. 



LOVELL’S LIBRARY 


O^T^r^OG-TJE- 


85. Shandon Bells, by William Black. 20 


86. Monica, by The Duchess 10 

87. Heart and Science, by Wilkie Col- 

lins 20 

83. The Golden Calf, by Miss M. E. 

Braddon 20 

89. The Dean’s Daughter, by Mrs. 

G re 20 

90. Mrs. Geoffrey, by The Duchess., 20 

91. Pickwick Papers, Part 1 20 

Pickwick Papers, Part II 20 


92. Airy Fa ry Lilian, by The Duchess. 20 
9i. McLeod of Dare, by Win. Black. 20 

94. Tempest Tossed, by Tilton, P’t I 20 
Tempest Tossed, by Tilton, P’t II 20 

95. Letters from High Latitudes, by 

Lord Dufferin 20 

96. Gideon Fleyce, by Henry W. Lucy. 20 

97. India and Ceylon, by E. HiBckle..20 

98. The Gypsy Queen, by Hugh De 

Norman I 20 

99. The Admiral’s Ward, by Mrs 

Alexander 20 

100. Nimport, by E. L. Bynner, P’t I. .15 
Nimport, byE. L. Bynner, P't II. . 15 

101. Harry Holbrooke, by Sir H. Ban- 

dall Roberts 20 

102. Tritons, by E. Lasseter Bynner, 

Part I 15 

Tritons, by E. Lasseter Bynner, 

Part II 15 

103 Let Nothing You Dismay, by Wal- 
ter Besa.t 10 

104. Lady Audley’s Secret, by Miss M. 

E. Braddon ....20 

105. Woman’s Place To-Day, by Mrs. 

Lillie Devereux Blake 20. 

106. Dunallan, by Kennedy, Part I... 15 
Dunallan, fiy Kennedy, Part II.. 15 

107. Housekeeping and Home-Making, 

by Maiion Harland 15 

108. No New Thing, by W. E. Norris., 20 

109. The SpixipendykePapers, by Stan- 

ley Huntley 20 

110. False Hopes, by Goldwin Smith. .15 

111. Labor and Capitil, by Edward 

Kellogg 20 

112. Wanda, by Ouida, Part 1 15 

Wanda, by Ouida, Part II 15 

113. More Words About the Bible, by 

Rev. Jas. S. Bush 20 

114. Monsieur Lecoq, byGaboriau,P't 1.20 
Mon8ienrLecoq,byGaboriau,P’t 11.20 

115. An Outline of Irish History, by 

Justin H. McCarthy. 10 

116. The Lerouge Case, by Gaboriau . . 20 

117. Paul Clifford, by Lord Lytton...20 

118. A New Lease of Life, by About.. 20 

119. Bourbon Lillies 20 

120. Other Peoples’ Money, by Emile 

Gaboriau 20 

121. The Lady of Lyons, by Lord Lytton.lO 

122. Ameline do Bourg 15 


123. A Sea Queen, by W. Clark RnsseU 20 

124. The Ladies Lindores, by Mrs. 

Oliphant 20 

125. Haunted Hearts, by J. P. Simpson . 10 

126. Loys, Lord Beresford, by The 

Duchess a 20 

127. tinder Two Flags, by Ouida, P’t I 20 
Under Two Flags, by Ouida, P't II .20 

128. Money, by Lord Lytton 10 

129. In Peril of His Life, by Gaboriau. 20 

130. India, by Max Muller 20 

131. Jets and Flashes 20 


132. Moonshine and Marguerites, by 

The Duchess 10 

133. Mr. Scarborough’s Family, by 

Anthony Trollope, Part 1 16 

Mr. Scarborough's Family, by 
Anthony Trollope, Pait II. ....15 

134. Arden, by A. Mary F. Roberts.. 15 

135. The Tower of Percemont, by 

George Sand 20 

1-36. Yolande, by Win. Black 20 

137. Cruel London, by Joseph Hatton. 20 

138. The Gilded Clique, by Gaboriau. ..20 

139. Pike County Polks, by E. H. Mott.. 20 

140. Cricket on the Hearth, byDickens.lO 

141. Henry Esmond, by Thackeray. .. .20 

142. Strange Adventures of a Phaeton, 

by Wm. Black 20 

143. Denis Duval, by W. M. Thackeray. 10 
141. Old Curiosity Shop, by Charles 

Dickens, Part 1 15 

Old Curiosity Shop, by Charles 
Dickens, Part II 15 

145. Ivanhoe, tiy Scott, Part 1 15 

Ivanhoe, by Scott, Part II 15 

146. White, W ngs. by Wm. Black 20 

147. The Sketch Book, by Irving....^ 

148. Catherine, by W. M. Thackeray 10 

149. Janet s Repentance, by Eliot. .. .10 

150. Barnaby Kudge, Dickens Part 1.15 
Barnaby Rudge, Dickcus P’t 11.15 

151. Felix Holt, by Geoi^je Lliot.. .20 

152. Richelieu by Lord Lytton 10 

153. Sunrise, by Wm. Black Part I.. .15 
Sunrise, by Wra. Black Part II.. 15 

154. Tour of the World in 80 Days. . . .20 

1 ■■5, Mystei'y of Orcival . Gaboriau 20 

156. T.ovel, The Widower, by W. M. 

Thac’teray 10 

157. Tne Romantic Adveninres of a 

Milkma.d, by Thos. Hardy 10 

158. D ivid 'opperlield. Parti 20 

David Copperfield, Part II 20 

159. Charlotte Temple, 10 

ICO. Rienzi, by Lord Lytton, Part 1. .10 

Rienzi, by Lord Lytton, Part II .10 

101. Promi'^eof Marriage. Gaboriau. .25 

102. Faith and Unfaith, The Duchess 15 

103. The Happy Man, ^^amuel Lover. 10 

104 Barry Lyndon, by Thackeray. .20 
105. Eyre’s Acquittal, Helen Mathers 10 
166. 20.000 Leagues under the Sea, by 
erne .... . ...... — 


BEAHT AITD nEEVE EOOD. 



Vitalized Phos-phitesp 

COMPOSED OF THE NERVE-GIVINa PBINCIPLES OF 
THE OX-BBAIN AND WHEAT-GBBM. 

It restores the energy lost by Nervousness or Indigestion ; relieves 
Lassitude and Neuralgia; refreshes the nerves tired by worry, excite- 
ment, or excessive brain fatigue ; strengthens a failing memory, and 
gives renewed vigor in all diseases of Nervous Exhaustion or Debility. 
It is the only PREVENTIVE FOR CONSUMPTION. 

It aids wdnderfuUy in the mental and bodily growth of infants and ; 
child/ren. Under its use the teeth come easier , the bones grow better ^ the skin \ 
plump&r and smoother; the brain acquires more readily, and rests and sleeps \ 
more sweetly. An ill- fed brain lecsms no lessons, and is excusable if peevish. \ 
It gives a Jiappi&r and better childhood. 

“It is with the utmost confidence that I recommend this excellent pre- 
paration for the relief of indigestion and for general debility; nay, I do more 
than recommend, 1 really urge all invalids to put it to the test, for in sev- 
eral cases personally known to me signal benefits have been derived from 
its use. I have recently watched its effects on a young friend who has 
suffered from indigestion all her life. After taking the Vitalized Phos- 
phites for a fortnight she said to me; * I feel another person; it is a pleas- 
ure to live.* Many hard-working men and women — especially those engaged 
in brain work — would be saved froiu the fatal resort to chloral and other 
destructive stimulants, if they would have recourse to a remedy so simple 
and so efficacious. '* 

Emily Faithfuuu. 

PuYsrciAxa have prescribed oyer 600,000 Packages because they 

EKuw ITS Composition, that it is not a secret remedy, and 

THAT THE FORMULA IS PRINTED ON EVERY LABEL 

For Sale tsy DrusriflEtE or Ilf all, 4|x. 

CKOSBY CO., 664 and 666 Sizth Avenue, NewTork. 




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